


The Jewels of the Ortiz

by weaving_a_tale



Series: The Further Adventures of Samuel Drake [3]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Badass Reader, F/M, Gen, In which Sam's father comes back and chaos reigns, crime families really have the best treasures, reader becomes the hero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9223754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaving_a_tale/pseuds/weaving_a_tale
Summary: Sometimes it's the people we never expect that become the adventurers, and the adventurers that become the damsels in distress.A grand tale of a kidnapping, a myth of a treasure stolen by a mafia family in Costa Rica, and how one former Masters student became the hero in the process.





	1. Reluctant Allies

You had made a promise to yourself that you would never find yourself in this situation.

That you were done with treasure hunting and globe-trotting, eliminating any possibility of ever finding yourself facing a series of rather-large men, their guns trained at a trio of people as they explained their terms over a video of shitty quality.

Sam's past had not only caught up with him, it had tackled him to the ground and put him in a headlock.

You had to admit, you were....more than a tad skeptical when Sam's father had come back into his life, claiming he needed his son's help in order to find the two children from his new family, his new life he had built after he had essentially abandoned the brothers Drake.

Sam had been skeptical too, but like everything else in his life, money turned out to be the deciding factor. Namely that he didn't have much and his father had more than enough to send his son into Costa Rica to search for his half-siblings, the pair disappearing during an archaeological dig they had been conducting together.

What Jacob Morgan had failed to mention, however, was that he knew precisely where his children were. The ransom video was the whole reason he went searching for his sons.

The Drakes were infamous for surviving the impossible, what were a few hired thugs to them?

Except here the two of you were, watching the latest video as your stomach plummeted.

Sam looked like shit, but there was still a certain defiance in his eyes. And you were proud of him for it.

His half-siblings had not faired as well, their expressions as broken as their noses, their eyes red-rimmed. Practically screaming for someone to save them without saying a word.

You couldn't figure out why Jacob was coming to you for help with this.

Sam had made sense. He and his brother had worked against, hell probably in certain cases worked FOR these sorts of people. They knew how they operated and how to handle them.

Anton Antiquities had been good for international experience, but Marie never took on these sorts of cases. Or those kinds of clients demanding it for that matter.

She had a niche of rich clients with well-lined pockets demanding more and more with little care for the consequences, and she appealed to them.

Oh Christ, you had worked for the villains for a year.

Finding treasure was one thing. Navigating South America searching for three kidnapped people was another, especially when you didn't know the territory.

"I-I'm not sure I can do this," you confessed, and Jacob looked confused.

"What are you talking about?" He asked with a frown. "I...oh. I didn't come here to ask you to help me find them. I just wanted to let you know, that's all."

It was your turn to frown.

"Why would you do that?" You asked.

"Heard stories about Les Chats. Including your...ahem, involvement with each other. Assumed you might still care about him, that's all."

You didn't respond, wondering what exactly people were saying.

If your name would now forever be associated for your actions alongside Samuel Drake.

If...if you kinda adored it more than you let on.

"Unless I'm wrong, of course, and he broke your heart. From what I've heard my sons tend to do that...."

You found yourself chuckling a little.

"We're....friends. So, uh, thanks for letting me know," you retorted, unsure of what else to say.

I mean, you could start screaming at Jacob for burdening you with this knowledge but what good would that do the either of you?

"So who, uh, are you thinking of hiring to rescue them?"

Jacob sighed, pushing his glasses to his forehead before he rubbed his eyes, letting them drop back onto a nose a carbon copy of his son's. Or maybe it was more appropriate to say the other way around.

It was...quite startling, how much Sam looked like the father he had worked so hard to forget existed, though that was where the similarities ended.

Sam would have ran into the situation with no hesitation, caution be damned.

Jacob was like you, all caution, and you knew it hindered the both of you.

"I....I don't know," he murmured, beginning to pace. "The local police have already refused to help..."

"They have?" You asked in surprise, looking at him.

He chuckled mirthlessly.

"No one wants to go up against the Ortiz clan if they can help it."

"Who are the Ortiz clan?" You asked, and Jacob sighed as he stopped pacing for a moment.

"They're essentially the mafia of Costa Rica. Don't usually bother with tourists unless they stick their nose where it doesn't belong," Jacob explained.

"Which your children did," you retorted, and he crossed his arms as he nodded.

"I...I told Lise and Frank that it was a bad idea to pursue this without any assistance, but they were stubborn. Said all they needed was...." Jacob began before his eyes widened, and he motioned for you to slide your chair away from the computer.

You watched as he frantically went through a series of web pages in rapid succession, eventually settling on an email account before he found what he was looking for.

The printer in the office began to chug before it spat out a series of pages, Jacob walking over to them before he picked them up.

"Savio Azarola. Looks like they paid him a fair sum of money to help them...." Jacob mused.

"You don't think he turned them over to the Ortiz' do you?" You asked in concern. "For more money?"

Jacob frowned.

"Could have. Wouldn't surprise me frankly. But...he seems like our best option at the moment...."

You looked at Jacob.

"Why not Nate?" You asked, and Jacob shook his head.

"He's got a wife and kid to think about now, I'm not tossing him into this chaos. Sam had no ties, that's why he was the better option," Jacob sighed. "Maybe it's better if I just go."

You looked at the hostage video, still on the screen and you closed your eyes as you let out a long sigh.

Crap you were really going to regret this...

"Then I'll come with you. I...I might have a contact or two from my days working for Anton, they could help..."

Jacob looked at you in surprise.

"Are...are you sure?"

You nodded with a sigh, glancing back at the screen as you spoke.

"So where can we find this Savio Azarola?"

\----------------------///---------------------------

You didn't know why, but you had expected this mysterious guide to be a balding middle-age man, likely with a potbelly and a leering grin.

The young man took a drag from his cigarette before he passed it off to a nearby man, cupping the dice to his mouth before he blew on them and tossed them onto the ground.

The smoke surrounded his features before it dispersed, the man giving a triumphant grin as the men around him began to grunt and swear.

"Pudrete en el infierno!" One of the men growled.

"Verga," another snarled, and the young man just laughed.

"Fair is fair gentleman....."

"Tirate a un poso," someone hissed, and the young man gave an exaggerated gasp.

"I played fairly," he retorted, hand on his heart. "How is it MY fault you lost?"

"That's him?" You murmured to Jacob, who sighed and nodded.

"Looks like it...."

The sleek black hair was cropped close to his head, one of his arms covered in intricate tattoos that spanned from his shoulder to his wrist.

Your stomach twisted in trepidation.

"Vete al infierno!" Another man growled at Savio as he gathered the money close to him.

"Tell you what. Come back tomorrow and we can do this again...." Savio began as he stood up.

It only took a moment for three of the men to pull out their pistols, and your stomach plummeted.

"O-okay boys, there's no need...." Savio began shakily.

"For a man who claims he has bad luck, you sure seem to have a lot of it tonight....as well as every night this week...." one of the men growled as his gun clicked, and Savio chuckled nervously.

"Maybe I'm just good...."

"Christ they're gonna kill him," Jacob hissed, and if the situation wasn't so dire you would have made a sarcastic remark.

God, what would Sam do? It wasn't like you could fend off a group of what looked to be well-armed and reckless men on your own...and Jacob looked like he could barely hurt a fly.

Oh God you were screwed.

Savio looked between the trio and the back door, letting out a long sigh.

"Well. Guess it's the end of the road for me gentlemen," Savio murmured, lifting up the back of his shirt to reveal a gun tucked into his jeans.

In the next instant you watched him pull out the weapon, the click of the safety barely audible as a series of sharp cracks went through the air.

A man slumped beside you as you ducked down instinctively, another crying out in pain as he clutched his arm.

"Dammit...."

You glanced over to Jacob, gritting his teeth as he clutched his shoulder, the blood already seeping into his shirt grotesquely and you swore.

You glanced back to Savio to see the heel of a shoe slipping out the back door, one of them men from the craps game lying in his blood on the floor as he swore loudly and angrily.

"Okay...okay I'm going to get you out of here and then..." you began as Jacob met your eyes. "You don't happen to have a gun or anything?"

You expected him to shake his head, but instead he pulled one out from his jacket pocket, handing it to you with a few shaky breaths.

You looked at him with surprise and he chucked.

"Wasn't always chained to my desk," he explained with a small smile, not elaborating as he motioned for you to follow Savio. "I can get myself out and to a hospital. See if you can chase him down and convince him to help us."

You held the gun and took a few deep breaths as your heart pounded.

"I'll be fine, go," he declared in response to your worried look. "So will you."

"This is an awful idea," you murmured as you followed on the heels of the two men now chasing Savio from the bar.

The three of you navigated through the back storage room towards an open door, the humid air clinging to your skin as the men muttered to each other in Spanish.

You didn't need to understand to know the plan, their looks murderous and their hands already curling and uncurling, clearly itching for violence.

You clutched the gun to your chest, remembering some of the lessons from the gun range as you clicked off the safety.

Just aim for the shoulder, just aim for the shoulder, you didn't need to kill them just incapacitate them, just....

They turned back to you at the sound before a sharp crack went through the air followed by another.

The two slumped, pitching forward and landing in the street with a heavy thump.

You looked towards the source, Savio slowly approaching, his gun trained on you.

He said something in Spanish and you shook your head. He repeated it, louder this time and you shook your head before you held up your hands defensively.

"No Spanish," you declared. "And I'm not gonna hurt you. In fact, I need your help..."

Savio looked skeptical as he got closer, the street lights casting his features in a certain glow, and you risked placing the gun on the ground.

"See? Not going to hurt you," you murmured, Savio stopping as he inspected your features.

There was a thick scar on his temple, spanning into the hairline as dark brown eyes watched you cautiously.

"You...you helped two Americans," you began. "Annalise and Francis Morgan."

He lowered his gun a fraction before he spoke.

"You looking for them?" He asked skeptically. "Why?"

"My...client has a vested interest," you replied cautiously. "Said the last person they spoke to was you."

"Before they were taken by the Ortiz clan, you mean?" Savio asked, and you went to mock horror (the less he thought you knew the better) when he barrelled on. "C'mon. You wouldn't be here otherwise."

He smirked a little.

"And you don't strike me as a tourist," he declared, glancing down at the gun.

He picked up the gun, inspecting it before he handed it back to you.

"Take my advice. Go home. The only thing you're going to find is a bullet in the head looking for them."

"My client...." you began.

"Will never pay enough for you to try and take on Vincent Ortiz."

He lowered his gun, clicking on the safety before he slipped it into his jeans again.

"Trust me," he declared, absently touching the scar and you shuddered.

"I don't have much choice in the matter," you replied.

"Can't expect a girl like you has much to be blackmailed for," he retorted with a laugh and you bristled.

"My...my friend is with them," you settled on. "He...he was hired to search for them too. Got caught."

"Not surprised," he retorted.

"Could you at least tell me where to start looking?" You replied, and Savio sighed.

"No."

You tensed up in frustration.

"It's not like I'm asking you to come with me. I just need to know...."

"You wouldn't make it a week," he interrupted. "If Ortiz and his malparidos didn't get you...let's say the animals aren't kind to foreigners."

"If you're so worried, come with me," you replied in frustration, and he set his mouth in a thin line. "Look. I get it. I'll be walking into a shit show."

You risked a step forward.

"But it's not like I have much of a choice. My client wants the twins, I just want my friend. And I can't get either of them if I'm not told where to start looking."

The man crossed his arms and shook his head, and you sighed in frustration.

"Fine. I'll ask someone else. Thanks anyways...."

You turned around to go into the alley leading to the front of the bar when you heard him let out a low groan.

"Soy un idiota tan puto, ay dios mio," he muttered. "Hey!"

You stopped.

"How much is your client paying you?"

"Enough," you retorted as Savio approached.

"How much is 'enough'?" He asked.

"Why? You don't seem like you need money at the moment," you declared.

"Let's just say what I need to do requires more," he declared. "A lot more."

He stuck out his hand.

"I'll help you find them if you give me....seventy percent."

You crossed your arms and shook your head.

"Forty," you bargained.

Truth be told you'd probably give him all of it. You didn't really need the money, Anton had set you up well and your current job wasn't too shabby for earnings.

But he didn't need to know that.

"Sixty," he countered.

"Forty and you swear you'll stick by till the end."

"Ay dios mio, fifty then."

"Forty-five."

He let out a low groan.

"Forty-five," you repeated. "And you don't abandon me halfway through. You help me till the end of this."

He sighed before he nodded, and you clasped his hand.

"Forty-five then," he grumbled before he released your hand. "So...Savio. Friends call me Sav. You?"

You debated giving him a fake name. But that could bite you in the ass later.

So you made the questionable decision to tell him your real name, and he smiled.

"Well, [Y/N]....before we head off to San Jose...you're going to need a better gun....."

 


	2. Needed Statements

In all honesty Sam knew he should have listened to her, the woman who'd come to mean so much more to him than he ever anticipated having more common sense in her little finger than he would ever have in his entire body.

Sure, he'd been as skeptical as she was, but....he couldn't lie. It wasn't the worse job he'd taken. At least, it had not seemed so at the time.

He let out a low grunt as he was hauled to his feet, a gun pressed into the small of his back as he was directed back to the room he currently shared with his half-siblings.

Two pairs of piercing blue eyes watched their captors undo their restraints, practically shoving the trio into the room before the metal door slammed shut behind them.

Annalise sighed, walking over to her cot and practically flopping onto it as Francis rubbed his wrists, neither of them speaking as Sam tried once again to find a crack, a sliver of clarity in the frosted glass of the window that would reveal hints to their location.

He wasn't even sure they were in Costa Rica anymore, the trio shuffled along every week or so to a new location, thick sacks over their heads and wrists bound behind them.

Anna turned towards the wall, letting out a long sigh as Francis looked at her in concern before he too laid down on his cot.

They had been like this from the moment Sam had arrived, their eyes already blank and their mouths set in thin lines, Sam reduced to straining to overhear the conversations the guards sometimes had outside their door in order to figure out how they had been captured in the first place.

From the sounds of it someone had sold them out, though Sam couldn't figure any particular reason why. It wasn't as if they were foreign diplomats or anyone with any international clout, just another historian and archaeologist in a sea of many.

He'd tried asking once, before he realized how useless the effort would be. He was promptly met with a warning look from Francis, Anna's eyes getting a certain flicker before it faded almost as soon as it had appeared.

He'd also tried bringing it up again after that point, Francis' words of warning so sharp it stung, and for a moment Sam was reminded of himself.

He liked to think he was an easygoing guy, but that was never the case when it came to Nate. Anyone tried to lay a hand or have a harsh statement about his brother, and there was no telling what his reaction would be.

He never thought he would feel like that about anyone else.

But that had been before her. Before she didn't so much waltz into his life as quietly sneak in and settle in his heart before he could realize she had made a permanent home there.

Christ. Never thought he'd be a romantic sap about a woman.

He turned away from the window, walking past Francis and Anna to his own cot, the cheap bed shifting under his weight as he sat down.

He was practically itching for a cigarette, for some form of distraction from these four walls and his thoughts.

He scratched at the beginnings of a beard, nails scraping against his skin as he sighed, once again his mind cast towards a few weeks before he left for what he thought would be a simple rescue mission.

Before it all went to shit.

\---------------------///----------------------------

Your 'friendship' had been teetering on a wire for so damn long it was little wonder you both plunged at some point.

It was the inevitable, really. That you would take that leap again, like a damn fool. Because that was you, wasn't it?

Always doomed to get tugged back into the cesspool of chaos that was Samuel Drake.

You didn't even have the excuse of honeyed words or even adrenaline from sheer relief that he was still alive to account for your actions. Hell, his last job had been pretty tame.

He'd been staying with you for two weeks, his last one just happening to end in England, the money he would put towards a hotel spent on a plane ticket to Scotland to see you.

Surprisingly, that wasn't what had caused the last thread holding you back to snap, though the thread was pulled taut by the action.

It wasn't even the lingering looks he had, the warm words, the surprisingly gentle smiles you pretended not to see for the sake of your 'friendship'.

It was a frozen dinner burnt to a crisp, your whole flat smelling like charred cheddar and blackened pasta.

A strange sort of domesticity had settled between the two of you in the time that Sam had stayed, you working while he stayed at the flat and looked for his next job.

You had joked that if he wanted to stay he should at least make the meals, him laughing along.

Except you had walked in to find your flat filled with smoke and Sam trying to usher it out of the opened windows with a dish towel.

"Wow, didn't think it was possible to burn a frozen lasagna," you retorted as you cocked your head at the blackened meal, barely able to contain your laughter.

"I'm telling ya, your stove is possessed," Sam countered, still trying to whip the smoke out and you started giggling.

"Uh huh," you replied, crossing your arms. "Maybe the great Sam Drake should just admit to himself that he can't be good at everything...."

"Yeah, well, not all of us are you are we?" He countered and you rolled your eyes.

"Not every sentence is a segue to flirt," you replied, though you smiled a little.

"Hey, I'm stating fact, not flirting," he retorted, his hands going up defensively, the dish towel still hanging from one of them.

You laughed, gently taking the towel back, looking up and meeting his eyes for a few moments too long.

"That so?" You countered. "Well...so long as we're stating facts...."

You took one of his hands, causing him to lean in closer as you uncurled the fingers and turned the palm towards you.

You took your keys out of your pocket, placing it in his hand.

"You burnt the last of my food."

You patted his cheek at the disappointed expression on his features.

"What? You expected something else?" You teased, your hand lingering too long before you removed it.

"For a woman so gorgeous you are cruel," he countered, your heart thudding in your chest as your stomach clenched.

"For a man who's braved temples and insane PhD students you sure are whiny about getting groceries," you replied.

"Well there I had some incentive," he countered, meeting your eyes again.

"The prize of food isn't enough?" You asked with a smirk.

He shook his head playfully, and you took a few steps toward.

Your hands trailed up his arms, fingers curled around his biceps as you leaned in close.

"Well I guess we need to find a better incentive then...."

His eyebrows rose in surprise at the bold move, and if you were being honest you were a little surprised at yourself.

"W-what were you thinking?" He asked, fumbling slightly as his hands went to the small of your back instinctively.

You wetted your lips, looking up at him as he mirrored the action.

"What? No clever...." He teased as your hands went to his shoulders, up into his hair before you tugged him down.

He still tasted like nicotine and smelled like smoke, and you drank it in desperately as your arms went around his neck.

Your keys landed on the floor with a sharp clatter, Sam's hands desperately moving down to your legs, hoisting you up.

"I don't want to be friends anymore," you declared as he nipped at your neck, mouth going over every inch of skin he could reach in the moment.

"Oh? For what reason?" He asked, hands already pulling your shirt up before he tossed it off.

You laughed as his hands went to your hips, forehead on your shoulder as he worked at undoing the button of your jeans.

"Oh. No reason," you countered. "Maybe because you're halfway to getting me out of my pants and I want that?"

He pulled away.

"What? That's not platonic?" He asked with a small frown as he met your eyes.

You kissed the crease as you pulled off his shirt in turn.

"Don't think so."

"Oh. Damn," he countered. "And here I thought we were becoming best friends or something...."

He set you down, not even pausing before he tugged down your jeans, working off your underwear in the same movement.

"Impressive," you declared and he laughed as he spread your legs.

"If you think that's impressive then you're going to lose your mind in a moment..."

You snorted.

"Really?" You replied, looking down at him.

"What?" He asked, meeting your eyes. "That was pretty good...."

"I'm not saying it wasn't," you replied. "I'm just saying, bit cliche."

You laughed.

"Then again, you're a man about to screw a woman half his age because he's going through a midlife crisis. Pretty sure being cliche is the least of our worries..."

"Midlife crisis? Really?" Sam murmured with a smirk.

You were about to retort when he kissed your inner thighs, his mouth slowly tracing higher and higher, and any thoughts you had in your head went out the window and across the country.

"Yeah," you murmured. "That."

He grinned up at you before he intently went to work, and....yeah.

You....you didn't do a lot of thinking for the next hour. Well, other than certain phrases that eventually tumbled out of your mouth in rapid succession.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You lay in the afterglow, closing your eyes as Sam kissed your shoulder before he all but flopped onto the bed beside you.

"You break my bed you're paying for it," you murmured, causing him to chuckle.

"Seems fair," he retorted, finding his cigarettes and lighting one.

He laid back down, watching the ceiling before he spoke.

"So....you want a June or December wedding?"

You turned your head, his tongue peeking out and wetting his lips.

"Why?" You asked hesitantly.

"Y'know....men like me don't come around often. Think you need to snatch me up before someone else does."

You snorted and shook your head, turning your head to look at the ceiling.

"It was good. Not that good."

"Ouch," he retorted.

"Besides....it's not like you would."

"Would what?"

It was your turn to wet your lips.

"Marry me," you replied quietly, all teasing gone.

He didn't respond, smoking quietly and your stomach sunk. Because the both of you knew that you were right.

"It's...it's fine. I...I shouldn't have said anything," you continued.

He took a deep inhale, blowing out the smoke and you watched it dance towards the open window.

"Well I think I just ruined all this," you murmured. "Great."

"Just a little."

You turned towards him, his smile teasing as he put the cigarette between his lips, using his hand to pull you closer.

"Not gonna lie though....kinda like your constant need for commitment. It's almost sexy," he declared, and when you went to move back he kept you in place.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth, placing it between his fingers before he kissed your forehead.

"But it's so not me and so damn you that....I kinda like it," he continued, turning slightly and tossing the cigarette out the window.

"What the hell Sam?!?" You nearly yelled, nearly bolting towards the window before he stopped you with a laugh, the cigarette still between his fingers. "Oh you ass...."

"See what I mean?" He replied, taking a long drag. "You're just....you care."

"About people not getting burned by lit cigarettes, yeah I think that's pretty common," you retorted sharply, Sam continuing to laugh before he tried to kiss you. You leaned back and he frowned, using the cup of water you kept beside the fridge to plunk the cigarette into. "That's not good either!"

For some reason Sam started laughing again, and you looked at him sharply as he carded a hand through your hair.

"What?" You asked sharply, sitting up.

Sam mirrored your movements, his hand reaching out and resting on your neck, his thumb stroking along your jawline.

"You promise not to say anything?"

You frowned, but you nodded.

"Okay. I...I know you like knowing all the cards and the game while I'm just happy to play what hand I'm dealt," he declared. "But....you're a damn royal flush."

He chuckled to himself before he risked kissing your shoulder.

"And if you think I'm tossing that away you've got another thing comin' babe."

"What are you saying?" You asked tentatively, meeting his eyes.

"You think I'm not gonna do what it takes to hold onto ya?" He replied with a grin. "If it takes making this official, fine. I'm yours. All yours. Have been for awhile."

He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

"And there it is."

You turned towards him fully, your heart thudding in your ears.

"Though....could we at least start at girlfriend-boyfriend or something and go from there?" He asked, meeting your eyes.

Your laugh was wet.

"Suppose we could work from there," you murmured, tilting his head down and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. You kept his chin clasped as you laughed. "I can't believe you seduced me with poker metaphors. That's....that's impressive."

"I am impressive."

"That you are," you murmured, climbing into his lap.

You leaned forward, your mouth centimetres from his when his phone rang.

That was the beginning of the end.

\-------------------------///------------------------

You watched Sav take a long drag of a cigarette before he stubbed it out under his foot, checking the map he spread out on the front of the car.

You'd been able to get the guns and the transportation, Sav making some excuse in Spanish to the seller that you didn't quite understand. It didn't seem like anything good though, considering how raunchy their laughter was.

The only issue was the location.

From what he had told you, the Ortiz clan owned multiple homes in Costa Rica as well as internationally, though he seemed confident the trio was not at any of the latter.

"Would be easy to spot three Americans leaving the country, especially off-season."

He had circled three locations, all at different points in the country before he frowned and crossed one out.

"Why not that one?" Jacob asked.

"There was a coup with some of the servants. Tried to...¿Cómo se dice...haze it I believe is the word. Burnt to the ground."

"Raze," you corrected gently, Sav's eyebrows raising before he nodded. "Sorry."

He looked surprised at your apology and you shrugged.

"So that leaves there...and there," Sav continued, pointing to the coordinates on the map. "Both of which are a few days drive from here, but as you can see in opposite directions."

"Which one seems more likely?" Jacob asked.

Sav frowned.

"The Diamante is smaller but more secure, while the Rubi is larger but has less guards," he explained. You must have looked confused because he clarified. "The Rubi is more of his summer home...the other is where he stores most of his weapons and...wares."

"Which one is Ortiz in more?" You asked gently. "Do we know that?"

"I'd say the Rubi. What's that got to do with it?" Sav asked with a frown.

"Three Americans, two from a wealthy family and one who's a well-known treasure hunter. Logic would say he'd want to keep them close. At least, I wouldn't want to leave them with my lackeys if I was him."

Sav looked impressed, nodding while Jacob frowned.

"Still...he could be in Diamanté. Maybe we should split up and look at both."

"You can't defend yourself from a whole army," Sav reminded Jacob, who only scoffed.

"Where do you think the great Nathan and Samuel Drake got it from?" He boasted, puffing up slightly.

"Who?" Sav asked with a frown, causing Jacob to rapidly deflate. "So what you're saying is you can handle yourself?"

"Well, been out of practice but sure."

"Alright. Lindo cabra is coming with me then," Sav declared. "There's another car in town you can use, just mention it's a favour for me at Bonito's. Contact me in three days."

"Lindo cabra?" You murmured with a frown.

Jacob nodded in response to Savio, going to walk away when you ran in front of him.

"Wait wait wait, you're leaving me with him?" You asked in concern, Jacob watching you calmly. "What if we're right and he betrayed your son and daughter to the Ortiz clan?"

"Then hopefully a pretty girl can loosen his tongue enough to make him confess," Jacob replied with a grin, patting your shoulder. "I'll keep in contact, you'll be fine. If I don't hear anything I'll come looking for you two."

There was still the nervous twist in your stomach, but you nodded.

It wasn't like you had much choice.

You had to find your boyfriend after all.


	3. Doubts

You're clearly out of shape, every inch of your frame stiff and aching as you gingerly lay down in your sleeping bag.

The Jeep had been abandoned à within a few days, Savio letting out a tirade of Spanish when he realized how he'd been screwed over.   
  
It felt like you'd been walking for weeks at this point, the time seeming to stretch longer at the fact that Savio barely spoke to you about anything sans your joint survival.

He let out a deep exhale, the smoke from his lit cigarette encircling his head before it wafted up into the night air.

Your eyes drifted down to the tattoo on his knuckle, a fox curled around it almost like a ring, and you wondered the significance as he met your eyes.

"Sorry," you responded automatically, looking away and he smiled a little.

"You Canadians really do apologize all the time," he murmured.

"No, that's just me," you countered with a self-deprecating laugh, one he didn't join in on as he pulled out his cell phone from his back pocket.

His thumb flicked along the screen, pausing for a moment before he resumed the motion.

He took another inhale from his cigarette, continuing to flick his thumb across the screen and for a moment you were tempted to ask what he was looking at when his eyes met yours.

"This friend of yours...." he began as the smoke curled out of his mouth. "You must care about him."

"What makes you say that?" You asked, and Savio smiled a little.

"You wouldn't be willing to take on the largest crime family in Costa Rica otherwise," Savio retorted.

"We've gone through too much together for me not to try," you replied honestly, taking a small sip from the water bottle beside your sleeping bag.

"Am I correct that he doesn't know?" Sav inquired, and you looked at him in confusion.

"That I'm planning to rescue him? No, he probably expects me to...well, actually I don't know what he expects me to do," you murmured.

"That you're in love with him."

You set down the water bottle, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before you grinned to yourself.

"Trust me....if he doesn't know I love him by this point, he's never going to figure it out," you retorted with a chuckle. "I mean....I'm willing to trek across Costa Rica for him right?"

You shook your head with a certain fondness, about to take another drink when Sav held up his hand. You lowered the bottle from your lips, looking at him in confusion before something sharply rustled through the underbrush.

Your heart thudded in your chest as Savio slowly pulled out his gun, your eyes darting over to the one beside your makeshift bed as voices carried over to you.

Savio unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and gently poured the water across the flames, the hiss as water hit the burning logs only heightened in the sudden silence.

There was a moment of peace before something tore into your campsite, a loud bang followed by a sharp yowl causing you to jump.

Someone called out triumphantly in Spanish as Savio crept towards you, your packs already slung on his back as he held out his hand to you.

"Poachers. More than willing to sell us out if it makes sure the Ortiz clan doesn't try to charge them for hunting on their property."

"Their property?" You asked as you clasped Savio's hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet before he released your hand.

"Of course. They practically own the country," Savio stated, motioning for you to follow him. "C'mon. I know somewhere they won't look."

"The poachers or the Ortiz?" You murmured, the pair of you doing your best to creep quietly through the underbrush, the sounds of the two poachers revelling about their kill still echoing around you.

Savio held a finger to his lips as something snapped beside you, his arm darting out protectively only to see a monkey with a baby clinging to its back run across the path.

"Shouldn't be more than a mile or so away," Savio declared as he motioned with his chin for you to follow.

You made sure to suppress your groan at the prospect of walking again, though that didn't seem to stop Sav from chuckling quietly at your expression.

"You North Americans are all so....perezoso," he declared, and somehow you knew it wasn't a compliment. "Though....you seem to be doing better than Frank. Could barely get him to move some days."

"And Annalise?" You risked asking, the small smile that had been on Savio's features fading until it seemed as if it had never been there in the first place.

He didn't respond, clearing his throat instead before he looked ahead, his steps a little faster now. Clearly under the impression that if he walked a little faster, perhaps the question would not catch up with him.

You spared him from having to hear it again.

\----------------------------------------------////------------------------------------------------

There wasn't much to do in the bunker to pass the time, hours chipped away staring at walls, counting cobwebs and waiting for the next meal to arrive.

Not that the food was ever close to edible, something the twins had been very vocal about in the beginning.

Francis grimaced as he practically had to drag his spoon through whatever gruel they had been given, Annalise's portion untouched as she lay on the cot they were currently sharing.

Frank nudged her back with his knee, causing her to swat his side, and Sam felt a sharp tug in his chest as he thought of Nate.

Frank mistook his expression to be of concern for their sister, giving him a reassuring smile.

"She'll be fine. The princess is just pouting again."

Her response was a grumble, going to swat him again, harder this time as Frank nimbly moved out of the way.

Lise's hand landed with a loud smack before the sheer force of the movement nearly sent her careening off the bed.

Sam chuckled a little as Frank began to cackle in amusement, Lise's expression only appearing to make him laugh harder.

The response was a loud series of bangs on the door followed by a tirade of Spanish, and Frank rolled his eyes.

"You would think we were in a hostage situation," Frank joked, Sam once again reminded of his brother.

Frank made his way over to Sam, plunking down beside him on the floor before Frank tried to ladle enough food into his mouth to make a small dent in the remaining gray mush.

"The food this bad in Panema?" Frank asked around the mush in his mouth, gagging slightly and Sam chuckled.

"Nah, they had us living on fresh fruit and the finest cuts of meat," Sam retorted, dragging the spoon towards his mouth, swallowing the morsel whole with a shudder.

Frank smiled to himself a little.

"Nice to know we weren't the only Morgans to inherit a bitter sense of sarcasm," Frank murmured, Sam's mouth set in a thin line at the mention of their father.

Sam had expected there to be some difficulty explaining their shared parentage, but Lise had voiced it before he could even utter a syllable concerning it.

It helped that Sam looked like the bastard, enough that Frank's mouth had opened slightly when Sam had been dragged into the bunker.

"It was....food. You learned not to question what you put in your mouth so long as it kept you alive."

Frank snorted and Lise let out a small sigh.

"Real mature there Frank," she muttered, the cot shifting as she crossed her arms.

"Lying in bed and pouting won't make him show up any faster to rescue you y'know," Frank retorted as he tried to spoon more of the gruel into his mouth, grimacing before he set down the loaded spoon back into the bowl.

"Who? Jacob?" Sam asked, Frank shaking his head.

"You kidding? Daddy dearest barely wants to leave his office most days, he's not trekking to Costa Rica to look for us," Frank said with a small frown. "I mean, he sent you instead of coming himself, didn't he?"

"Then who are ya talking about?"

\------------------------///-------------------------

The house was small, practically tucked into the tree it stood beside, everything inside coated in a fine layer of dust.

Sav was trying to light a fire as you rummaged through the cupboards for food, gagging as you found a punctured can, its contents putrid.

You tossed it into the sink with a loud thwack, causing Sav to nearly drop the match between his fingers.

He muttered something in Spanish before he tossed it into the fireplace, the flames igniting the dust before settling onto the newspapers he had found in one of the rooms.

He sat back with a sigh, the flickering flames casting his face in shadows as he ran a long hand across it.

"Hopefully whoever owns this place won't be too upset," you murmured guiltily as you took some of the decent food.

"I'm sure they will understand," Sav retorted, poking at the fire before he sat back. "We should be able to stay here for a night."

He brought himself to his feet with a soft groan, stretching languidly giving a glimpse of a bullet hole scar on his stomach.

He caught you staring, rubbing the spot gently.

"Pissed off the wrong people?" You risked asking, causing the tanned man to smirk a little.

"From my perspective," he retorted, nodding towards your shoulder. "Can't imagine who you screwed over to get that...."

You touched your shoulder and smirked in turn.

"Perks of working with Sam Drake," you retorted with a laugh. "Got it the first day I met him, actually."

You rubbed the spot, for the moment remembering calloused hands touching the spot with a surprising amount of gentleness before you shook your head.

"You weren't kidding when you said you loved him," Sav retorted, a small smile of what almost looked like respect crossing his features.

"Yeah, well, trust me, I didn't at the time," you countered with a grin. "First real job out of university and I get shot in the shoulder by people going after a treasure that was never supposed to exist."

"And that deterred you from going after said treasure of course."

You grinned.

"But of course. I went home."

Savio looked puzzled as you risked sitting down on a nearby sofa, the dust rising from it in a thick cloud and you coughed loudly.

"Oh God...." you muttered as you waved your hands in front of your face as if that would help disperse the dust. "It was...decided for me that it was best if I didn't go on the expedition to find the treasure of Victoire."

"Which...you agreed to?" Sav asked with a frown.

"I was 23 years old and terrified. Trust me, I practically sprinted to the plane back to Canada."

You ran a finger through the remaining dust, running it between your forefinger and thumb before you continued.

"Never really...liked the whole adventuring thing, actually," you found yourself confessing, Sav crossing his arms as he watched you. "Even when I was getting paid for it. Too much risk of failure and death for my taste."

You shrugged.

"I can....understand why Sam likes it though. Being locked up for thirteen years makes you want to travel the globe. And he practically grew up on this sort of thing, from what little he's told me."

Sav didn't respond, and for a moment you felt a panic rising up in you for revealing too much to a man who may well betray you to the Ortiz for all you knew.

"You think he'll give it all up for you?" He retorted, and there was no malicious tone to the inquiry.

"I...I don't know," you murmured, pulling your legs onto the couch. "I...I don't think I should expect him to. If it makes him happy, can't be that bad right?"

"If it makes him happy..." Sav sang gently, and surprisingly well. "Then why the hell are you so...sad?"

You chuckled a little.

"Didn't take you as a fan of Sheryl Crow."

"Would you go into adventuring for him?" Savio replied, and you scoffed.

"Christ no. Did it before, didn't like what I saw. Besides, I have a decent job that requires not even the slightest possibility of getting a gun to my head. Not giving that up for some man."

Savio chuckled, but his nod appeared to be one of approval.

"What do you do, exactly?"

"You mean besides hunting for Sam Drake across South America?" You retorted. "Clerical duties for a group of university professors. Pays well, leaves me on my own most of the time."

You glanced around the cottage.

"This is a nice change of pace, though."

"You won't be saying that when we come face to face with Vincent Ortiz," Sav retorted.

"He's really that awful?"

"Oh no, he's....cómo se dice....a plum."

"Peach," you corrected. "He's...the one who shot you, isn't it?"

Any mirth that had been on Savio's face faded and he shook his head.

"No...no he got someone else to do that for him," he murmured, checking his phone. "We...we should get some rest before it gets too late."

You were a little unsettled by the abrupt end of your conversation, but you nodded.

He began to walk into one of the rooms when you called out to him.

"Would you do it?" You asked, causing him to turn to you. "Give it all up just for the person you loved?"

"Will it make you feel any better if I said yes?" He retorted.

You were unsure of how to respond.

"Moro viejo nunca será buen cristiano," he declared, and you frowned. "You and him want separate things. Either of you changing for the other? Will only make you miserable."

He stopped in the doorframe, his fingers tapping against the wood before he spoke again.

"Samuel Drake is their brother, isn't he?" He asked, and you nodded. "Lise...she's like him. Desperate for something just out of her grasp."

He met your eyes.

"Suppose that makes me like you."

"That you love her?"

Savio shook his head.

"Content for things to remain the same."

He slipped into the room and closed the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

That prospect was more terrifying then any bullet or thug would ever be. Because you could escape the latter if you were clever or lucky.

You couldn't ever truly escape what doubts were starting to settle in your mind.

If your sheer adoration of Sam was going to be enough to save him.

If you were right to begin to trust Savio when the only concrete thing you knew was that his last companions had ended up in the clutches of the Ortiz clan.

If you and Sam were meant to last once the dust finally settled.

 


	4. Unexpected Appearances

You awoke the next morning to a significant absence, the cottage eerily quiet sans for your movements as you shifted off the sofa.

You pulled out your sweater from your pack, slipping it on as you blindly tried to maneuver your feet into your shoes, grumbling at the troubled sleep you'd had.

You'd never been good sleeping away from home, and you suspected the fact that you were going into certain danger for one man wasn't exactly helping that insomnia.

Savio's words kept running through your mind as you walked through the kitchen, tentatively pushing open the door.

You were greeted by a lush landscape, but no Savio Azarola.

You closed the door with a thwack, walking over to the bedrooms as your heart began to thud.

When you didn't find him in either one, the slight rise in panic fully spiked, your chest constricting.

You couldn't imagine that anyone would take him and leave the rich Canadian behind, but then again, you'd seen the level of anger directed at him during that craps game.

It was more than likely someone wanted him dead, and maybe they'd been able to track him here.

So you were essentially lost in some jungle in the middle of Costa Rica, no cell phone reception to guide you, and the only man that seemed to know the territory was no where to be found.

Oh, this was utterly fantastic. This is definitely what you wanted to happen. You couldn't ask for a better set of circumstances.

Okay. There had to be a map somewhere in this place, maybe you could at least figure out where you were.

And then...what? Just walk all the way back to the nearest town and ask some poor soul to help you find the hostages of what sounded like a cruel drug lord?

You couldn't even phone Jacob to ask him for help due to the lack of reception, and even if you could there would be little he could do except tell you to get out.

You wondered if he was having any luck finding the Diamanté.

The sounds of a truck pulling into the clearing reaches your ears and you tensed, your heart in your throat.

You ducked down as you stood in the kitchen, fumbling to open the drawers in hopes of finding yourself a weapon to defend yourself.

An egg beater. Perfect. You could whip them into submission.

The car shut off followed by a series of doors opening and closing, your hand gripping the handle of a knife as you began to plan your escape route.

Or at least the beginnings of one. You'd probably have to improvise the rest.

You'd never been too good when you were caught off guard.

The door opened and you scrambled to your feet, trying to get out of the kitchen as your heart continued to thud.

The heavy footfalls of the intruder almost echoed through the small house, the knife clutched close to your frame as you slowly backed into the hallway.

There was a grunt and a hiss, the creak of a series of cupboards opening before someone knocked a few things onto the floor.

You saw a plastic bowl roll towards you before it fell with a soft thump, a chair creaking as someone sat down in it.

You took a tentative step back, a creak signalling the movement and you stopped.

There was a stillness before the person rose from the chair, and you'd been on enough jobs for Anton to know what the sound of a bullet clicking into place sounded like.

You didn't linger to find out what they wanted, your footfalls creaking through the house as you darted into one of the bedrooms.

You yanked open the drawers one by one, looking for something to smash a window open with (muttering a quick apology in advance), pulling out a shirt to wrap around your hand so as to avoid getting pierced by any glass.

You heard the person follow your path, your heart dropping to your stomach as you fumbled within the drawers for something.

Your eyes caught the lamp beside the bed (more importantly, its metal base), and you made another quick apology as you yanked the cord from the wall.

Your chest constricted as the person stopped in the doorway, hissing sharply.

You risked a glance back.

\---------------------///----------------------------

Savio had made the mistake of lighting a cigarette as he stood in the middle of the clearing, his thoughts preoccupied with what he had said to the Canadian woman.

She couldn't even fathom what he had given up for the sheer love of someone else, her soft palm in his as he ran away from everything he had once known.

The Ortiz had gotten to her, the same way they got to everyone given enough time.

It had been a convenient excuse though, that he left because of how much he loved her. It was cliche, but it wasn't unheard of.

His brother could accept that to a certain degree. Not that Savio had been planning to escape for months, that the girl had been an afterthought he'd merely tacked on when love clumsily got in the way.

Savio took a long inhale from the cigarette, sighing out the smoke as he touched the scar on his stomach.

It was in this moment of distraction that they arrived, two men emerging from the clearing with their guns already trained on him.

He already knew there was no use in trying to fight them off, the reminders of such a notion imprinted on his stomach and temple.

So he raised his hands placatingly, didn't speak as he was flipped around and cuffed. Allowed himself to be plunged into darkness when the bag was shoved over his head.

  
There was a clink of silverware as the bag was removed, someone unfastening the cuffs around his wrists, and he hissed at the harsh light.

The room could only be described as opulent, the man sitting across from his just as much, his suit finely tailored and his hair coiffed.

"Didn't expect you to come willingly after last time," Vincent Ortiz declared, sipping his wine, and the scar on Savio's head seemed to throb in remembrance.

"Didn't expect you to start kidnapping Americans," Savio countered as he rubbed his wrists. "Thought you didn't like the mess of it all."

"I'm going to be fair and assume you didn't know what they were after," Vincent replied smoothly. "For old times sake."

In that moment he genuinely wished he could disagree, say he had known all along just to see that perfect look snap for a minute.

Savio shook his head instead.

"Wouldn't think that would make you want to trek through Costa Rica to rescue them."

"I'm not here for them," Savio replied.

"You're not?" Vincent asked skeptically, his eyebrows raising as he cut himself a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth.

He nodded towards someone over Savio's shoulder, who promptly brought him a plate of his own.

Savio looked at Vincent hesitatingly.

"For old times sake."

Savio hated how he practically shovelled the food into his mouth, barely pausing to drink or breathe.

"I'm here for the third one," Savio declared around the food, causing Vincent to chuckle.

"Swallow before you speak," he declared with a certain affection, and it made Savio's stomach twist.

He set down his fork with a sharp clatter, sharply disgusted at himself as he nearly spat the food back onto the plate.

But he did as he was told, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

"Annalise and Francis, I can understand. But not the third, Samuel," Savio declared.

"He tried to rescue them," Vincent countered. "Didn't have a choice."

"And you wouldn't have done the same for me?"

Vincent looked at him sharply.

"Don't," he declared warningly.

"Or are you too caught up in your own ambitions to have a shred of decency?" Savio continued.

Vincent's hands gripped around his cutlery tightly, the pristine image beginning to slip away.

"And if that doesn't motivate you, I'm pretty sure you don't want to see Nathan Drake here."

The guards in the room began to mutter and Vincent held up a hand to silence them.

"What does he have to do with any of this?" Vincent asked sharply.

"Besides the fact I was hired by him to find Samuel?" Savio lied. "He's their brother."

Vincent seemed to blanch.

"And we both know you don't want a Drake coming into the compound. Not after what happened with Shoreline."

"We're strong enough," Vincent said as if he was trying to convince himself of the fact.

"Are you certain of that?" Savio declared.

Vincent motioned over one of his guards, murmuring something into his ear before he looked back at Savio.

"You eaten enough?" Vincent asked, and Savio frowned before he nodded. "Good."

The bag was tossed back over his head, the cuffs back on his wrists before he was practically dragged out of the room.

  
His cheek pressed into the cloth as he was tossed into what sounded like a vehicle, two bodies tossed in with him who let out sharp groans.

Somewhere in the distance there was a series of shouts followed by gunfire, footfalls followed by an eerie silence.

The doors slammed shut at that moment, the truck rumbling underneath him.

Well. So much for a negotiation.

\-------------------///------------------------------

Your eyes met those of a familiar warm amber, dark bruising around one that only seemed to just be healing, dried blood in his receding hairline, the hand clutching his side stained red.

Samuel Drake looked like utter shit.

And it was the goddamn most beautiful sight in the world.

The lamp clattered to the floor, rolling under the bed as Sam lowered his gun, eyes widening as he took you in.

You tentatively stepped forward, your eyes darting from his side to his face and back again, his clothes coated in layers upon layers of grime, his hair in worse condition.

He mirrored the movement, still clutching his side as he closed the distance, an arm coated in dirt and dried blood wrapping around you before he tried to pull you close.

The stench hit you in a thick wave and you gagged, stumbling back as you placed a hand on his chest.

"Holy shit...." you gasped, clutching your nose and mouth, and he chuckled.

"Not exactly the first words I pictured you saying, but I'll take 'em," he declared, and it was your turn to laugh, the sound warm and genuine before it took on a hysterical edge.

Your hand left your mouth as your arms wrapped around your frame, as if you were trying to hold yourself together as you felt tears of sheer relief begin to fall.

Sam kept as much distance as possible, barely touching you as his chapped lips pressed against your forehead, and without thinking you wrapped your arms around his waist.

You practically dragged him towards you, the stench fading as your nose clogged with snot, your tears turning uglier by the second as you clutched him tightly.

"I know, it's enough to make your eyes water right?" He joked about the smell, and you laughed brokenly as something wet pressed against your side.

You withdrew, looking down between you to see your shirt was stained scarlet, and you instinctively reached forward and clamped down on his side.

"W-w-w-we need to get you....you patched up," you struggled to get out, his free hand on your cheek before the thumb stroked across it.

"In a minute," he murmured, tilting your head up and leaning down, causing his mouth to hover close to yours. You placed your hand on his mouth, the result a muffled sound of surprise.

"Not until I know you're not gonna collapse in my arms," you declared, an adorable frown on his features that made you smile a little. "And after you take a shower."

You removed your hand as he arched an eyebrow.

"You gonna take it with me?" He purred, and you rolled your eyes as you grabbed his free hand.

"Sure. Definitely," you replied, leading him back to the kitchen before you set him back down on the chair. "Take off your shirt."

"So much for foreplay," he declared, peeling it off before he tossed it onto the table.

"I didn't realize that word was in your vocabulary," you retorted, getting some forceps and clumsily using them to try and pick out the bullet.

"You never complained....oh SHIT!" he snarled, banging a hand on the table as you hit something and you winced.

Somehow you were able to pluck out the bullet intact. He had gotten lucky, the wound mostly superficial and not appearing to pierce any organs.

You took some of the antiseptic from the first aid kit currently set on the table. You wiped the antiseptic-soaked cloth on the wound, Sam letting out a low hiss.

"Alright, so all I need to do is stitch this up and wrap it," you murmured, fumbling to get out the needle, scissors and thread.

Your hands were starting to shake, the tears still drying on your cheeks and you took a deep breath.

"I hope you're aware that you ruined my grand rescue plan," you declared as you got to work, trying not to think too hard about what you were doing so as not to gag again.

"You were going to rescue me?"

There was a genuine amount of surprise in his voice, causing you to stop and look up at him.

"No. I was going to leave you rotting in Costa Rica," you retorted sarcastically.

He didn't speak, the awkward sound of flesh being stitched closed the only noise, his expression unreadable.

"Huh," he finally replied.

"What?" You asked. "You didn't think I was willing to go in guns blazing, kicking open the door to the room with my foot, hair blowing artfully in the non-existent breeze before I would gather you into my arms where you would gracefully swoon?"

You finished up the stitching.

"Men aren't the only ones that save damsels in distress," you continued before you chuckled. "Or whatever the male equivalent is."

There was no witty retort as you stood up, gathering the dirtied cloths and tossing them into the nearby sink. You turned your back and placed the needle on the counter, not really paying attention as the chair creaked behind you.

You jumped a little as a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, a stench assaulting your senses.

"I think it's time...." you began when you felt chapped lips on your shoulder, brushing along the scar. The movement took you by surprise, leaning back instinctively as he rested his forehead against your temple.

You expected honeyed words, affectionate terms, anything but the silence you were given, his breath warm against your cheek as he held you.

"What?" You murmured.

He shook his head, kissing your temple before he released you.

He padded towards the washroom, peeling off the remainder of his clothes before he closed the door.

You crossed your arms, listening as he turned on the water, sloshing against the tile as the shower curtain was drawn across the rod.

You picked up his clothes, wondering if they were even salvageable before you dropped them into the sink with a thump.

You used what remained of the dish soap, turning on the water and scrubbing what you could from the clothes, trying not to linger on Sam's silence.

It was unsettling to you, the normally-talkative man rendered mute, and it made you wonder if it was wrong to have told him.

You couldn't imagine what his reaction would be once you told him it was because of his father you were here in the first place.

You heard the water click off as you wrung out his clothes, the door opening with a creak.

"There might be some clothes in one of the bedrooms," you called out, hanging the clothes on the chairs of the kitchen.

You heard Sam pad into the nearby bedroom, closing the door with a soft click.

When he didn't emerge after ten minutes, you risked it, approaching the door before knocking on it gently.

There was no response, and you pushed the door open tentatively before you poked your head in.

"Find...." You asked as he searched for a shirt, the rest fading away as you took in the bruises and cuts on his frame.

You swallowed audibly, his eyes meeting yours with an unreadable look in them.

"I-I'll let you get some rest. We can talk later," you murmured, his response a small nod.

There was a certain awkwardness as you closed the door, your stomach twisting as you went back to check your supplies.

You practically flopped onto the sofa, pulling your backpack up onto it before you pulled out its contents.

Not that you would really need them if you just decided to go home.

It wasn't that you hadn't believed Savio when he warned you about the dangers of the Ortiz clan, but seeing the evidence on Sam's body....it honestly terrified you.

And you had to be honest with yourself. You had only come here to get Sam back, and here he was, safe if not quite sound. You could just leave for the UK and not look back.

Except....you knew yourself. That the guilt of leaving two innocent people and a shady man to certain doom would consume you, though there was little chance of helping the latter.

You didn't even know who had taken him, after all.

You glanced towards the door leading to the main bedroom as you placed what you needed back into the pack, setting the rest aside.

You laid down, closing your eyes for what felt like a moment.

When you opened them again, the sky was pitch black, the door to Sam's room still firmly closed.

So much for a joyful reunion.


	5. Tensions

Despite his exhaustion, Samuel Drake found little rest, his thoughts turning over what he had left behind and what he was currently facing.

It was readily apparent to Sam that a transport was being planned for Ortiz' prisoners, the guards speaking in low tones outside their makeshift holding cell. Sam wasn't going to linger to find out where they would be going next.

So he had planned an escape for the trio during the transport. And to be fair, it had mostly gone according to plan. He had been able to get out, after all.

But Annalise and Francis has not been. Tossed into the back of some van with another figure, Sam tearing through the jungle with his hands still cuffed behind his back.

He'd been lucky, the cuffs actually quite breakable, a few quick hits against the side of the truck he had hot-wired able to shatter the chain.

He had meant to make it further than he did, until the blood loss from the bullet lodged in his side made the choice for him to find somewhere he could patch himself up.

He'd been stunned to find [Y/N] there, that she was even in Costa Rica in the first place and to be honest, he was still in shock....albeit for different reasons now.

Because if there had been a single doubt in his mind how deeply she cared about him, this was proof. Coming back to a life she had practically sworn she would never return to, just to rescue him from his own mess.

He'd already risked it before, putting someone he cared about in danger because of the chaos he had made. The culmination a ship burning around them, a beam across his chest, begging his brother to just leave him.

Hell, [Y/N] had already been shot because of him, too intent on finding some treasure to care about the collateral damage.

He touched the wound on his side, the stitches she had made, his thoughts inevitably drifting to the possibility of the same happening to her. But of the bullet going too deep, of the terror and shock in her eyes as she would crumble.

And just that possibility of losing her terrified him.

He wished he could say he didn't know why, be blinded by a certain ignorance like before when all he could focus on was shipping routes and a certain redhead.

But even then he had cared, fumbling to thread a needle as Abbie paced in the hotel room, constantly reminding him to be careful.

Listening to Abbie rant and rave about what had happened, thinking his only concern at the time was keeping [Y/N] alive so as not to risk any more of Abbie's ire.

But there had been such a tide of relief that washed over him when she had woke up, the smile on his face genuine that she had made it through.

He didn't have a distraction this time, nothing to prevent his realization of a very simple fact.

He'd not just fallen for her, he'd practically leapt into the abyss.

Christ. Never thought he'd ever have to face that possibility.

And it was his flimsy excuse for why he was going to leave her behind.

He opened the window of his bedroom with a loud screech, hissing to himself at the sound as he climbed out.

The door banged open as he slid the window shut, his eyes meeting hers for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he declared, trying to ignore the look of confusion on her features.

He winced at the pain in his side, holding it as he made his way towards the truck.

The front door of the cottage swung open, her shoes skidding in the mud as she sprinted towards him, her hand reaching out and landing on the truck before she could fall.

"You're not going after them alone," she declared breathlessly, gesturing to his wound. "Not like this."

"Well...." he began before he swallowed audibly. "It's not like you being there would help."

The pain that swept across her features was reflected in the ache in his chest, and he sighed.

"I don't...need you for this," he continued. "I don't...want you to help me."

She crossed her arms, closing her eyes as she let out a long sigh.

He braced himself for tears, for her to try to hide them. For his chest to ache even more as he walked away.

"Did I ask for your opinion on the matter?" She retorted with a broken smile, and God if that didn't hurt more. "You're not going without me."

She stepped closer to him, her shoes squelching in the mud.

"Someone needs to drag your ass out when it gets handed to you," she continued with a small laugh.

"[Y/N]...." he began, and she shook her head.

"I came all this way, might as well finish what I started," she retorted. "I'll get my supplies. You start the car."

He watched her walk away, and he knew what he had to do.

Hopefully she could forgive him for it.

As the door shut behind her, he started the car. He took a deep breath, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel, willing himself to do the right thing.

He steadied his breathing, touching his side for a moment....the mud squelching under his tires as he drove off.

\------------------------///------------------------

Savio would have believed he had conjured all this up in some elaborate dream, the soft mattress and feather comforter, the breakfast on the bedside table....had it not been for one of his arms cuffed to the bedpost.

He tugged against it a few times, the bed creaking at the movement before he sighed and did his best to sit up.

The door opened, a familiar pristine man standing there, and Savio offered him a glare so sharp Vincent laughed.

"Relax. Just a precaution," Vincent murmured as he closed the door. He motioned to the handcuffs. "I'll get those taken off as soon as I deal with this whole...Drake, issue."

Savio continued to glare, his back thumping against the headboard as he settled back.

"So, when can I expect a visit from the infamous Nathan Drake?" Vincent asked, picking off an orange from the tray.

He began to peel it as he spoke, the scent causing Savio's mouth to water.

"If he's even coming at all," Vincent continued, popping a slice into his mouth. "You know, here I was, all panicked about it."

He swallowed audibly.

"And then I find out, he's off somewhere in Europe, doing a favour for someone. Helping to dredge up the wreckage of an old boat."

He met Savio's eyes.

"So...who really hired you?"

Savio shrugged, his gaze still locked with Vincent's.

"Does it matter?"

Vincent let out a sigh, eating more of the orange before he spoke.

"You broke Papa's heart, you know. Vincent Ortiz, to run the family business."

He looked at Savio and chuckled.

"And Santiago Ortiz, his clever son, to make it all look legitimate."

Vincent smirked.

"How is Isabelle, anyways? Still worth leaving all this over?"

Savio didn't respond, breaking from his brother's gaze.

"Or was it always the plan to leave?"

"Does it matter anymore?" Savio spat.

"Well, your distaste....it's a decent motive to lead two Americans here. Allow them to take the gems, to spite me."

"You think I would lead anyone here willingly?" Savio countered. "You already shot me in the head when I tried to leave. Never wanted to think what you'd do if I came back."

Vincent sat on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out before he carded it through his brother's hair.

"You and I both know that was an unfortunate necessity at the time."

Savio shifted himself away as far as possible, glaring at his brother.

"So...what convinced you to even take them on?" Vincent asked, Savio giving him a skeptical look in response. "Can't I be curious?"

"Curiosity isn't a habit of yours," Savio countered.

"Maybe I've changed."

Savio scoffed, looking away from Vincent.

"Whatever you want to know, it's not going to be coming from me. I know as little as you do about it all."

"Why do I have a hard time believing that?"

Savio chuckled mirthlessly.

"Because you want to cast me as the villain so you can be the hero and sleep at night."

There was a chink in the perfect armour, Vincent's features stiffening before he relaxed.

He picked up the tray, setting it on the bed.

"Eat up. You'll need your strength."

"For what?"

Vincent pushed open the door, pausing for a moment.

"We're transporting the jewels."

Vincent closed the door, missing the surprised look on his brother's features before the younger man smirked.

"Of course," Savio declared.

Somewhere in a cottage out in the jungles of Costa Rica, a young woman emerged to find a truck missing, and her boyfriend with it.

She practically slammed the door shut, muttering to herself angrily as she paced the cabin. Once again stuck in the same situation as before.

Any trek back to the city would take a week or more on foot, and there was no chance in hell now she was going to try to go after Sam.

She wasn't usually prone to fits of violence, and yet she repeatedly slammed one of the lower cupboards, harder and harder as her cursing grew and grew.

She wasn't quite sure what she was upset about more, the man she thought cared about her enough to not abandon her...or the fact she had believed he would never do so.

The cupboard came clean off its hinges, something glinting in the light that came in.

She frowned to herself, reaching into the cupboard, her fingers coming across a dislodged board.

It was easy to pry off, sliding onto the floor to expose a hidden compartment.

What she found inside caused her eyes to widen.

"But who's to say they haven't been moved already?" Savio murmured.

She tentatively pulled out gem after gem. Each multi-faceted and varying in size, some on their own and others in jewelry that spanned from what looked like some medieval period to the 1800s.

"Holy shit," [Y/N] murmured, the horde surrounding her as she sat back.

Perhaps a trek back into the city was in order after all. 

She had a few calls to make. 


	6. An Ally, An Enemy

To say you were in an unexpected situation would be an understatement.

You had been able to get to the nearest town within a day, somehow convincing a local to let you use their phone, though you had a sneaking suspicion the bit of cash you had pulled out looking for the contact info you needed had done most of the work for you.

Your first phone call had been to Nathan Drake, the only response a long winded voicemail detailing how to get in contact with the company he ran with his wife.

Victor Sullivan had not been much help either, apparently also out on another job. Or a vacation. His voicemail, unlike Nathan’s, was everything but clear on the matter.

And it wasn’t as if you could get in contact with anyone from the days with Anton, most of them either leaving the business for good after the collapse or scattering to different parts of the globe.

So you said your thank yous, paid the family what they wanted and found your way to the local pub, ordering the only drink you recognized from your limited time spent in such establishments.

Your serious frustration at your situation nearly made you want to drown yourself in cheap booze when someone plopped into the booth across from you.

You glanced up instinctively, doing a double take as you took in a rather gorgeous woman, her jet black hair tied back into a bun, her tanned skin practically glowing as she set down her beer bottle.

“So. A little birdie told me you’re looking for a Drake.”

You frowned, unsure of how to respond when she spoke, her hand held out to you.

"Chloe Frazer. You must be [Y/N]," she introduced with a grin, her smile widening when you continued to look at her hesitantly. "Nate sent me. Said you needed help rescuing his brother from whatever mess the Drakes always seem to find themselves in."

You took her hand, shaking it politely before you released it, tucking your arm back under the table.

"So....Costa Rican drug lords eh?" She mused with a chuckle, your response a small nod. "Can't say I've done that before."

She tucked back a long strand of black hair that kept falling into her eyes, an effortless sort of movement that made a certain jealousy curl within you.

You could never look that effortless no matter how hard you tried.

"So how'd you get dragged into this?" She asked as she met your eyes.

"How else?" You replied bitterly, taking a gulp of your drink. "Samuel Drake."

She chuckled knowingly, leaning back.

"Been there before," she mused, taking a gulp of her beer. She appeared to study you for a moment before she took another sip, setting down the bottle before she spoke. "He know?"

"About what?" You retorted sharply.

"There's no need to get defensive," Chloe replied. "Just....mapping the territory, that's all."

You rubbed your eyes with a certain tiredness before you spoke.

"Sorry. I just...it's complicated."

"Everything usually is in this line of work," she retorted.

"We...we met on a job. Well, sort of. I mean....anyways. He just....I thought we were close, and yet he just....ditched me in the middle of Costa Rica to go play the hero," you explained.

"Sounds like a Drake," Chloe replied with a chuckle. "Always biting off more than they can chew."

You nodded, sipping some of your cider before you set down the glass.

"Part of me....just wants to ditch him too. Leave Costa Rica, let the bastard figure it all out on his own," you confessed.

"But you care about him," Chloe retorted knowingly. "Love. Worst thing in this line of work."

You chuckled a little.

"Heard that one before," you replied, taking another gulp from your drink. "Should have just run after that bullet and never looked back."

Chloe didn't ask you to elaborate, watching you rub the spot on your shoulder before you rolled it a few times, wincing at the ache.

"Still. In it too deep now. Might as well track down the asshole."

Chloe smirked a little.

"Woman after my own heart," she declared, sipping her beer. "So what's your grand rescue plan then? Go in guns blazing?"

You smiled a little before you met her eyes.

"I was thinking something a little more subtle..."

\-----------------------------------///------------------------------------------------------------

The plan had been to quickly snatch up his siblings and run.

The plan had been to hop into the Jeep, slam his foot onto the pedal and drive without looking back.

The plan had been to find [Y/N] and get them all onto the nearest flight out of Costa Rica.

The plan had certain not been to get himself captured within moments of stepping onto the estate, his Jeep commandeered by his captors, and be placed in a cell alongside the last man he wanted to see.

A man idiotic enough to get himself captured when he was snooping around the compound looking for his children.

Sam watched his brother pace the room, his arms crossed as he sported a deep frown.

Sam knew he should be more concerned with the fact his sister had been cuffed and escorted out of the room a few hours ago....but all he could seem to focus on was [Y/N].

The fact that despite his best efforts, she was still going to be placed in danger.

It wouldn't be that hard to track her down, the tire skids likely still imprinted in the road that would lead back to her.

He rested his back against the cool stone, running a hand through his hair as he itched for a cigarette.

"She'll be fine," Jacob declared, and for a moment Sam was tempted to sharply ask him why he was so certain.

Until he realized the statement wasn't directed at him.

"You don't know that," Frank retorted tensely, Jacob sighing.

"You know her. She can handle herself," Jacob retorted, meeting Sam's eyes. "She's a Morgan, after all."

Sam quickly broke his gaze, his desperation to get out of the room growing. The prospect of remaining stuck here with the father that had cared so little for him and Nate that he had abandoned them at the first opportunity wasn't that comforting.

There was a series of clicks before a latch scrapped across the door, opening before two men stepped into the room.

Wordlessly they approached Francis, no hesitation before they promptly placed his hands behind his back, the cuffs clinking on.

Another figure was tossed in to take his place, his knees hitting the ground sharply as Frank was escorted out.

The man was handsome enough, though the shiner on his eye wasn't doing him any favours.

The door closed with a sharp bang, the man hissing as he stood up, and Sam watched him set himself down on a nearby cot.

Father and son waited for him to say something, but no words came, the man more interested in glaring at the door he'd just been forced through.

There was a certain recognition in Jacob's eyes as he looked at the young man, the former appearing to almost deflate.

"I'm guessing they have her too then. Shit," he declared, the young man glancing over before he frowned.

"Que?" The man retorted. "Quien? Your daughter?"

"[Y/N]," Jacob retorted, Sam glancing at his father sharply.

"What do ya mean, [Y/N]?" Sam asked tensely.

"She's fine, I got....Que es la palabra...given."

"Taken," Jacob corrected, the man sighing.

"That."

"So that means she can get us help?" Jacob asked hopefully.

"How do ya know [Y/N]?" Sam tried again, sharper this time, Jacob appearing to ignore him.

The man shrugged.

"If she knows we're here," the man retorted.

Jacob finally seemed to notice the growing tension rolling off Sam in thick waves, shifting away slightly as he looked at his son warily.

"You dragged [Y/N] into all this," Sam realized as he met his father's eyes.

"I just explained to her what had happened. She came of her own accord," Jacob retorted defensively.

"And you thought she wouldn't?" Sam snarled.

"Well...yes," Jacob retorted. "Thought she had more common sense...."

"She's not you," Sam snarled.

"What's that supposed to mean Samuel?" Jacob retorted, Sam's pulse elevating.

"You know damn well what it means," he growled. "Willing to abandon those they're supposed to care about."

Jacob's expression darkened.

"He was a kid, and I had to explain why Dad wasn't coming back to get us," Sam snarled. "Lied at first, y'know. Kept piling 'em up, tried to protect him like you were supposed to."

Sam chuckled mirthlessly.

"Worst thing was, when we finally decided to run, I thought that was it. We would be done with you."

Sam met his father's eyes.

"But that wasn't enough. You just had to come back. Make sure you ruined what little I have. Suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Ya ruined the rest."

Jacob opened his mouth to retort, his eyebrows drawn when the door banged open.

The twins were tossed inside, the man's eyes widening as he took in the blonde woman, already clamouring off the bed as Sam was hoisted to his feet.

The guard's grip was tight as they cuffed his hands behind his back.

He was practically shoved towards the door, the man closing it behind them as Sam took in their surroundings.

The corridor crawling with guards, disturbingly quiet as Sam and the guard's footfalls echoed in the hallway.

Their heads pivoted as he walked past them, causing a shudder to go through him as he was led towards a door.

The door opened of its own accord, giving Sam a glimpse of sparkling gems before he was practically tossed inside the room.

He jumped slightly as the door slammed behind him, glancing back at it before he focused on the room.

He knew his focus should have been on the man standing behind the desk, or the woman who stood across from him, her familiar jet black hair causing some relief to flood through him....hell, even the gems perched on the table, large and clearly worth more than he could ever hope to have.

But as soon as his eyes fell on the small woman sitting in a nearby chair, her hands tied behind her back, her clothes stained in dirt and her lip sporting a cut, he couldn't focus on anything else.

He made a movement towards her instinctively before he heard a gun cock, causing him to freeze.

"Take a seat Mr. Drake," the man declared, his pistol appearing to be inlaid with a few precious stones, gesturing with it to the seat across from him.

Sam glanced at [Y/N] again, for a moment tempted to defy the man before he cleared his throat.

"Thought you said he'd be cooperative," the man commented to the woman, who shrugged.

"I told you to put her in the other room," Chloe declared. "How else was he going to react?"

Chloe met Sam's eyes pityingly.

"He adores the girl, after all."

Sam felt himself bristle, sitting down as [Y/N] looked towards him, their eyes meeting for a moment.

He wanted to reach out, stroke back her hair, kiss her forehead and tell her everything would be fine. That he would make sure nothing else happened to her.

But all he could do was sit there and watch the man look at her sharply, causing her to drop her head.

"Vincent Ortiz. Pleased I can finally talk to one-half of the duo that nearly eliminated Shoreline in its entirety," the man declared.

Vincent glanced at Chloe.

"You're quite lucky. Your friend is more than willing to trade for your freedom," Vincent declared. "Though I can't see how you're even worth half of one of these stones."

The man shrugged.

"Still. Deal's a deal. Your freedom for what is rightfully mine."

Sam tensed as Vincent reached into his desk, watching him pull out a slim key.

"Take off the cuffs will you?" He ordered Chloe, who looked slightly annoyed before she nodded.

The cuffs came off with a loud click before they dropped to the floor.

Sam didn't hesitate, trying to get to [Y/N] before the gun clicked again.

"Your freedom. Not hers."

Sam looked at Vincent questioningly.

"She tried to steal the Jewels of the Ortiz. Surely you don't think that can go unpunished do you?" Vincent asked rhetorically.

He motioned a guard standing in the room over, murmuring something to him before he nodded, quickly leaving the room.

"There will be a car waiting outside to take you, your father and Chloe back to the city. I highly suggest you take it."

Sam looked back at [Y/N], stock still as she kept her head down.

"Why are you releasing my father?" Sam asked gently.

"He simply came here to get his family back. I understand the bond of family, I cannot fault him for that," Vincent declared. "Though I sincerely wish they had not tried to take what was not theirs....otherwise they might be coming with you."

Someone clamped onto Sam's arm, one of the guards as Vincent motioned for them to leave.

"Though if any of you come onto my compound again, don't think I'll offer the same courtesy twice."

Sam's eyes couldn't help but be drawn back to [Y/N], the guard making an impatient grunt before he shoved Sam forward.

Sam stumbled, steadying himself as he stood in front of the guard meant to escort him out of the building.

He didn't move for a few moments, a hand suddenly on his back before someone gently nudged him forward.

"C'mon Sam, let's get going before they change their minds," Chloe declared with a small laugh, bordering on nervousness as she urged him to keep walking. She leaned in close to his ear. "Trust me."

Sam looked back at Chloe who gave him a curt nod, motioning with her chin for him to start walking.

Vincent furrowed his brow as he began to approach the pair, Chloe's nudges more insistent.

He took a small step forward, hearing Chloe let out a small sigh of relief.

His eyes rested on the holster on the guard's belt, taking a deep breath.

He wasn't going to be like his father.


	7. Best Laid Plans

It was all over within moments once Sam had been able to get the gun out of the guard's holster.

The air still hummed from the fired shots, Sam tossing the gun aside to land with a sharp clatter beside the now-lifeless Vincent Ortiz.

Chloe was still trying to catch her breath, the encrusted pistol still warm in her hands as she glanced around the room.

"Well I don't know what else I expected," she murmured, placing the gun on the desk as she glanced down at the guard she had knocked out.

The pair of them had worked like a well-oiled machine once the first shot had been fired by Sam into the first guard's chest, Chloe recovering from her shock enough to take out the guard next to her.

Sam had rounded on Vincent, a certain glare in his eyes as the man fired at him. Not that it made any difference, a bullet from his guard's gun now lodged in his skull.

Funny. Sam had thought it would be more difficult than this to fell the man behind this whole operation.

His greater concern, however, was the young woman currently looking around the room wide-eyed.

He rushed towards her, running a calloused hand across her cheek and into her hair once he had knelt down. There was a definite tenderness to his touch as he checked her for any serious cuts and bruises, grinning in relief as he found none.

He fumbled to undo the ropes tying her hands behind her back, eventually just picking up one of the encrusted knives displayed on the wall and using it to cut them off.

He rapidly circled around her, no hesitation before he cupped her cheek with his hand, his thumb stroking along it before he kissed her out of sheer relief.

A warm settled in his belly as he breathed in the scent of dried mud, tasting the familiar sweetness on her tongue that was definitively her, his hand travelling to the back of her head.

He fell back at the sudden shove to his chest, landing with a thump as [Y/N] looked at him with such a glare it might as well have been the knife he had used to cut her free.

Chloe picked up the encrusted gun, inspecting it with interest before she clicked on the safety and shoved it into her belt.

"Alright, so we might still be able to salvage this...." Chloe began as she gathered up the jewels, placing them in a satchel Sam noticed was perched on the edge of the table.

"Why are you taking them?" [Y/N] finally spoke, causing the pair to look at her as Sam stood up.

"Well, it's not like he's going to use them," Chloe retorted, gesturing with her chin to Vincent.

[Y/N] mouth set itself in a thin line before she sighed and nodded, standing up. There was a slight wobble to the action and Sam reached out instinctively, [Y/N]'s glare stopping him in his tracks.

"Thanks. You've done enough already," she replied sharply, brushing past him towards Chloe.

Sam frowned in confusion as she picked up one of the guns on the floor, putting on the safety before she placed it in the back of her jeans.

"Surprised the alarm hasn't gone off yet," Chloe commented as she glanced around.

"Don't jinx it," [Y/N] replied with a certain tiredness. "So I guess we just try and get the rest of them now?"

Chloe nodded at her.

"Ready when you are."

"Wait, what are you....." Sam began with a frown.

"Let's get moving, before Mr. Hero here finds another way to fuck everything up," [Y/N] muttered, walking ahead of Chloe before she stopped. "Actually, maybe you should take the lead."

"What? Afraid of a few guards?" Chloe teased her.

"Afraid of their guns more then them," she replied honestly.

"I...I saved your life," Sam declared as he looked at [Y/N], frowning.

"No, what you did was screw up the plan entirely with your damn heroics," [Y/N] retorted as she followed Chloe.

"Plan?" Sam asked in confusion, [Y/N] not responding.

"Well you have to admit it was risky...least now we don't need to worry...." Chloe began.

"That's not the point!" [Y/N] retorted tensely. "We were going to be subtle, get everyone out quietly, not go out in some blazing gunfire."

"You don't know you'd be able to get them out once you were inside," Chloe reminded her.

[Y/N] threw up her hands in frustration.

"Does no one have faith I can do this?" She barked. "Two years. Two damn years working for Anton, and you both act like I'm still that grad student...."

"Whoa, okay, didn't mean to open any wounds there," Chloe murmured.

"So it was all just a ruse," Sam declared, [Y/N] glaring back at him like he was the biggest idiot in the universe.

Which frankly, he was starting to feel like.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wished you could just be livid with him for ruining your plan, instead of this tangle of emotions he always seemed to bring out in you.

The plan had not been as certain as you would have liked, but at least it was something. At least there was some predictability to it all. Even if the sheer thought of what your 'punishment' would be sent a chill down your spine.

But then at least you would have been on the inside, able to smuggle out the twins at the right moment.

Instead, here you were maneuvering around corridors, your heart hammering in your chest as you braced yourself for the guards to arrive.

"I know you can do this."

The sudden sound in the strange silence caused you to jolt sharply before you turned your head to look at the source.

"What?" You asked with a frown.

"That you can take care of yourself," Sam replied gently. "I just...I didn't want..."

He swallowed audibly.

"I don't want to lose ya."

You felt your stomach twist, though you pushed it down and rolled your eyes.

"You practice that in the cell?" You muttered.

You felt his hand rest on your arm, tugging you to a halt.

"I meant what I said. Before I left. I'm willing to do what it takes to hold onto ya," Sam murmured.

"Really? You're doing this now?" Chloe declared at the statement, stopping and watching the pair of you.

"Which is why I left you behind," Sam continued, ignoring her. He let out a small laugh. "Better you pissed off and alive than the other option."

You hated yourself for how you softened slightly at the words.

"Sam, I...." you began gently, pushing down the flutter in your chest at the words. You had to be practical, there was a job to finish, and then you could deal with...all this. "I...I would have liked the option, at least."

"I know," he retorted before he smiled. "Well, I know that now."

You couldn't help but smile a little in return.

"Can you just do me a favour?" You asked, and he nodded. "Please, for the love of God, just...think before you leap."

"Thought that's what you liked about me," Sam retorted with a smirk.

"It's never been what I've liked about you, trust me," you retorted, turning away from him before you approached an impatient Chloe.

"All's forgiven?" She asked, and you shrugged.

"Starting to," you replied, Chloe sighing before she started to walk again.

"Let's just find everyone and get the hell out of here."

Sam chuckled.

"As impatient as always," he commented fondly, and you frowned before you remembered a comment he had made once.

"As if you aren't," she flirted easily and with a certain familiarity.

You glanced back at Sam and cocked an eyebrow before you nodded towards Chloe.

His smirk could only be described as shit-eating before he had the audacity to wink at you, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Great," you muttered to yourself. "My boyfriend has officially screwed every woman in the room."

"What was that?" Chloe called out.

"Nothing. Just...thinking out loud," you retorted, frowning as you heard Sam chuckling.

Chloe held up a hand, silencing the pair of you as she stopped. You followed her gaze, taking note of the guards milling about, glancing at Sam as you pulled out your gun.

"Onto the breach, ol' chum," you declared in a mock English accent, Sam's chuckle tickling your hair as the three of you pressed yourselves against the nearby wall.

"There's six guards and three of us," Chloe murmured before she shrugged. "Seems easy enough."

You looked at her skeptically, Sam grinning at your reaction.

"What? Don't think you can do it?" Sam murmured into your ear, and you looked at him nervously.

He noted the expression, his features softening as Chloe suddenly charged.

You saw her take down a guard easily, and you took a deep breath before you charged into the fray.

Or at least, you would have. If your feet could even move.

You stood there frozen as Chloe continued to fight the men, a certain terror dousing you as you took note of the guns on their hips. The fact that one wrong move on your part and they could take you out.

"Little help here guys?" Chloe barked out as she continued to fight.

You nodded, swallowing audibly as your heart thudded, jolting when someone placed their hand on your arm.

Sam gave it a gentle squeeze before he rushed past you, charging into the fray easily.

If Chloe fought with a certain elegance, Sam was all grit, his moves all jagged and sharp, his mouth set in a thin line as he took out the guards.

One of them stumbled back, shakily removing his gun from its holster before he aimed it at Sam, and whatever bound you to your spot just broke.

You clumsily clicked the safety off your gun, aiming it shakily at the man's head as you willed yourself to fire it.

You took a deep breath before you pressed down on the trigger...just as the man fired his gun.

You watched the bullet lodge itself in Sam's shoulder, the guard collapsing from the wound in his neck, screaming in pain.

Chloe was quick to end his misery, her gun firing quickly and the bullet landing in his skull.

Another guard began to sneak up behind her and you fired, somehow able to hit his head before he too fell.

Sam winced as he touched the spot on his shoulder, his fingers coming back with blood.

You noticed the blood beginning to seep into his shirt, blooming from his side as he stumbled.

He clutched his side as you sprinted forward, Chloe taking out the last of the guards.

You wrapped an arm around Sam's waist as he began to pitch forward, your other hand on Sam's chest to try and keep him steady.

"What's wrong?" Chloe asked as she took in Sam's appearance.

"Wound on his side reopened," you explained as you placed Sam's arm around your shoulders, Sam wincing at the movement. "And the bullet in his shoulder isn't exactly helping."

Sam gritted his teeth as he continued to hold his side, his breathing starting to grow more laboured.

"Do you think he can make it to the holding cell?" Chloe asked you, and you shrugged helplessly, jostling him and causing a low groan.

"I...I don't know," you replied as Sam clumsily removed himself from your grasp.

"Yeah I can make it," he declared with a wince, still clutching his side as he took a few tentative steps forward. "Had worse than this before."

You looked at Chloe in concern before your eyes went back to Sam.

"You're not going to be much use if you suddenly collapse from blood loss," you declared, Sam using his free hand to wave dismissively.

"C'mon, it's gonna take more than a bullet or two...shit...." he began before he interrupted himself, appearing to grow unsteady.

You shook your head as you huffed out a sigh of frustration, walking towards him before you resumed your earlier position.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" You declared, Sam letting out a weak chuckle.

Chloe inspected him critically, looking at you with a concerned frown.

"He's not looking too good," she murmured.

"Thanks," Sam replied sarcastically as you risked a glance at him, noticing how sharply he was gritting his teeth.

You wrapped your arm around him tighter, clamping down on the wound on his side.

"Sam? How much longer is it to get to the holding cell?"

Sam took a ragged breath.

"Best guess? Few more minutes," he retorted. "Hey, is the room spinning for anyone else?"

You looked at him as your heart jolted in panic, frowning at the cheeky grin on his features.

"I-I'm fine. Stop worrying," he replied, painfully reaching up and tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

"Yeah, I can see you're peachy," you retorted, looking at Chloe. "Any ideas?"

Chloe glanced down the hallway before she looked at the pair of you, opening her mouth to retort when she stopped.

You followed her gaze, noticing the guards parked outside a large metal door. Their guns were significantly bigger than the others had been, though they appeared to be distracted, laughing and chatting.

"That it?" Chloe asked Sam, the latter looking a little surprised before he nodded.

"Think so," he retorted, already beginning to move forward when you held him back.

"You looking for another bullet to add to the collection?" You murmured, Sam chuckling before he winced in pain. You patted his chest. "Stay here. I'll try to handle it."

You eased him down to sit beside the wall, kneeling down between his legs before you used your forefinger and thumb to hold his head in place.

"And if I catch you moving it's not gonna be the guard's you have to worry about," you declared.

Sam gritted his teeth as he closed your arm, using it to lean forward.

His hand remained there as his mouth clumsily met yours, your teeth knocking together before he shifted.

There was no urgency to the movement of his mouth against yours despite the circumstances, lingering as his hand dropped to your waist.

You dropped to your knees as he pulled you closer, your arm looping around his shoulders.

Your hand went to his cheek out of sheer instinct, savouring the moment as you ran your thumb across his jaw, for a moment tempted to deepen the kiss before you remembered your circumstances.

You broke the kiss, pulling away enough to meet his eyes.

"I'm...I'm still pissed off with you," you breathed. "T-that doesn't change anything."

"You can never make it easy, can you?" Sam retorted with a small grin.

"You don't like easy," you countered, causing him to chuckle before he winced.

"As lovely as all this is, kinda need your help here [Y/N]," Chloe hissed as she gestured to the guards with her chin.

"Sorry," you apologized to both.

Your hand went to Sam's side, pressing down before you kissed his forehead.

"Don't do anything stupid," you murmured against the skin.

You removed yourself from his grasp, standing up before you pulled out your pistol and cocked it.

"Give 'em hell," Sam declared, your response a small nod.

You went beside Chloe, the pair of you watching the guards before she sprung into action.

You did your best to follow her lead, the pair of you shooting with a certain abandon until the guards fell.

You didn't give yourself time to feel a certain guilt that you had killed in cold blood, knowing you'd likely need therapy for this later.

Chloe shot the lock off the door as you approached, kicking it open with her foot.

You turned back towards Sam, about to tease and compliment him for staying put, when you saw he wasn't moving.

You scrambled towards him, falling to your knees as you checked his pulse, your heart hammering in your ears.

You barely heard Chloe calling out to you, desperately searching for a heartbeat.

"Sam...Sam please..." you murmured, tears beginning to prick your eyes. "God help me, please...."

You practically shoved your fingers into his throat, pressing down sharply as you kept searching, a broken sob escaping your lips when you found his pulse.

"You piece of shit," you declared with a broken laugh, running your hands along his features before you kissed his forehead again.

You felt a hand press down on your shoulder, causing you to look up, your eyes meeting Chloe's.

She held out the keys to the truck to you, pressing them into your palm as she pried your hand from Sam's face.

"Get him out, I can manage," she murmured, and you nodded as you stood up shakily.

You looped his arm around your shoulders, stumbling under his weight as you held him.

You glanced into the cell, watching as four figures emerged, stumbling but still standing, and you nodded to Chloe.

You began the long trek back to the truck, your gun still cocked as you prayed you wouldn't find any other guards on the compound, as unlikely as that would be.

But as it turned out, something was on your side, the guards either inside or having fled as soon as the first shot was fired.

You struggled to get the back door open, loading Sam inside before you crawled in beside him and closed it.

You pulled his head into your lap, stroking back his hair. And you did something you hadn't done in years.

You prayed.


	8. Where We Are

Low words of Spanish, a man in an immaculate suit pressing a crisp set of bills into the palm of a nurse.

The action was so commonplace for you now that you barely batted an eye, watching the man sit across from you as he looked at you with a certain sympathy.

"You should really get yourself some rest," Savio murmured, the room quiet sans for the steady beep of the heart monitor, the whirrs of the machine keeping track of Sam's vitals.

You rubbed your eyes as you did your best to suppress a yawn, shaking your head.

"I'm fine," you retorted quietly.

"Chloe has said she's more than willing...." Savio began, your eyes darting up from the man that lay between you sharply.

"I'm. Fine," you emphasized.

"Is this because...." Savio began hesitantly, trailing off. You gave him a confused look and he took a deep breath. "Chloe told me. What happened between them."

Your features settled as you leaned back, rubbing your eyes.

"It didn't seem like anything serious," Savio tried to reassure you, causing you to let out a small laugh.

"Most things when it comes to Samuel Drake never seem to be," you retorted, looking up at the ceiling.

"Must be genetic," Savio retorted quietly, more to himself than you, and it was your turn to look at him with sympathy.

"You couldn't have known. Hell, I thought...." you began when you heard a soft groan. Your heart jolted, your eyes going to the man in the hospital bed as he stirred.

The chair across from yours scrapped across the floor, Savio standing up before he brushed himself down, sauntering towards the door before he opened it with a sharp click.

You dimly heard the door close as Sam met your eyes blearily, letting out a soft groan as you carded a hand through his hair. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment before he opened them fully.

"So...what did I miss?" He murmured, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat before he winced, his hand instinctively going down to his side.

"Oh, y'know. Daring escape, painful betrayal, the rise of a new leader of the Ortiz clan," you retorted before you shrugged. "Nothing much."

Sam chuckled before he winced again, your hand smoothing the lines on his forehead before you pressed a gentle kiss against them.

"Does this mean you're not mad with me anymore?" He asked hopefully, and you let out a laugh of your own.

"Oh no, I'm still pissed for you trying to abandon me in the jungles of Costa Rica," you retorted honestly. "But, y'know. You nearly died. So. That....kinda puts that on the back burner for the moment."

"Good to know," he retorted as he tried to sit up, wincing at the action. You tried to help him only for him to shoo you away, causing your eyebrows to raise as you leaned back.

He made it halfway before he groaned, looking at you pleadingly, and you smirked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, do you want my help?" You asked as you crossed your arms.

"[Y/N], c'mon...." he whined, and you shook your head.

"Hey, I saved your ass from the clutches of hell. I'm sure it's only fair you at least try to manage a hospital bed," you retorted with a grin.

"Your cruelty knows no bounds, ya know that?" Sam groaned as he sat up, leaning against the headboard.

"Thought that's what you liked about me," you countered, reaching behind him and adjusting his pillows. "My unyielding cruelty and my constant disdain."

You sat back in your chair as he settled back.

"Starting to think you're a glutton for punishment," you continued, causing him to snort.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" He retorted with a cocked eyebrow, his bandages on display and your heart sharply ached. You traced your thumb along his brow, frowning at the bruising.

"Christ you look like shit," you murmured.

"Oh gee, thanks," he retorted sarcastically.

Your hand trailed down his cheek, across his jaw and down to his neck, your thumb resting on the top of his tattoo.

"Guess Chloe owes me twenty bucks," you murmured, tracing along the lines of the bird.

"For what?"

"She said you wouldn't wake up for a week. I said three days," you replied, shifting onto the bed. "Thought you were tougher than you looked."

Sam chuckled, his hand resting on your hip as he pulled you closer.

"Now why does this sound so familiar huh?" He teased, his thumb rubbing small circles into your hip. "Would think you're an ol' romantic or something."

"I'm surprised you even remembered," you replied.

"Remembered what?" He asked as his eyes widened comically. "Was....was I supposed to remember something?"

"You're lucky you're already in pain or I'd whack you right now," you retorted, a warm chuckle bubbling from his chest before he pulled you to him.

He studied your features with a tenderness that made your heart jolt again, wetting his lips before he spoke.

"I never did get that twenty bucks," he declared, and you laughed drily. "Suppose I deserved that though. Treated ya like shit and all that."

"Yep," you retorted. "And then again two years later."

"And again now. God, I'm awful," he murmured, and you smiled as you rested your forehead against his chest.

"Yeah, it's kinda a miracle I even love you to be honest," you retorted without thinking.

You expected a sharp panic to consume you at the words that now hung in the air, but there was none. The words felt as easy as breathing, and honestly, you didn't need to hear them back.

"Considering it took me this long to realize I love ya too? Yeah, definitely a miracle," he retorted with a laugh that rumbled through his frame.

Nevermind. Screw that. Him saying those words felt fucking GLORIOUS. And God help you if you didn't want to hear them again and again.

You drew back, meeting his eyes and he grinned.

"What?" He retorted to your expression. "You think I'd keep ya around this long if I didn't?"

"That sounds vaguely insulting," you retorted, wrapping your arms around his neck as he seemed to flush.

"Ya know what I meant," he retorted quickly.

"Holy shit you're blushing," you murmured.

He fumbled at a retort, less words and more noise, the action causing you to chuckle before you gave him a peck on the mouth.

"It's fine, Sam. I got it," you declared, leaning back. "You're hopelessly in love with me and you simply can't express it in words."

"You....you were supposed to be the kid, not the woman," he retorted. "There. Words."

You removed your arms from his frame, clapping sarcastically.

"Wow. Give you the Pulitzer," you retorted. "Truly the words that compose great...."

Your words were cut off as his mouth collided with yours, his hand resting on the back of your head. Your eyes slipped shut as you kissed him back, pulling yourself tightly against him.

Actions were better than words any day.

\------------------------------------------///-----------------------------------------------------

Her head was tucked under his chin, her legs curled up beside him as he gently ran his fingers up and down her spine.

Savio had gone back to the new base of operations, his ascension to leader of the Ortiz clan surprising though not unexpected. From what Sam had heard, Savio's father had always expected him to run part of the business anyways.

Though Sam couldn't see him being pleased with his son trying to pursue more legitimate options. Still a kingpin, but if possible a decent one.

There was a soft creak outside his door before it was pushed open, Sam craning his neck to get a good look.

His blood ran cold as his eyes met those of Jacob Morgan, the latter gesturing with his hand for Sam to follow him.

Sam glanced down at [Y/N], carding a hand through her hair before he looked back at his father.

"Let her sleep," Jacob murmured. "God knows she deserves it after everything she's gone through. Besides....I was hoping to speak to you alone."

[Y/N] had not said much when it came to his father, and to be honest Sam had expected he'd gone back to wherever the hell he was living now. Once again running away from everything to keep himself content.

Perhaps it was the curiosity that had gotten the better of him that compelled him to slip out of the bed, making sure to tuck [Y/N] in before he followed his father.

  
The coffee was practically sludge, bitter as he sipped it from a paper cup, his father running his fingers along the rim more than actually drinking from his own cup.

"Sorry I couldn't see you earlier. There...were a few things I had to settle first," Jacob murmured.

Sam didn't respond, certain there was not much he wanted to say, watching as his father fiddled with the cup before he took a deep breath.

"I...I had heard of the Jewels of the Ortiz when...your mother was....better," he struggled to say. "Back when it was Carlos Ortiz that was the head of the family. Used to joke that all it would take was someone taking the gems for the family to cave in itself."

Jacob finally sipped from his cup, his features contorting before he shuddered a little.

"Course we never intended to take them. Our treasure-hunting days were far behind us at that point..." Jacob began, noting Sam's surprised expression causing him to smile. "Surprised you didn't catch on to why we travelled so much when you were younger. It was...easier, back then. But then your brother came along, and while we could handle a rambunctious five year old, there was no way we could also take care of a baby."

Jacob appeared to smile fondly at the memory before he sighed deeply, the smile quickly falling away.

"I won't excuse how I acted once your mother...passed away. Even if it was grief," he murmured. He met Sam's eyes. "I...I did try to find you at one point. After I met my second wife. She...she put me back on track in a lot of ways."

He smiled a little.

"Reminds me of [Y/N], actually. Hope you're not planning to just toss that away."

"I don't," Sam finally spoke, his voice slightly hoarse before he cleared his throat. He sipped some of the sludge, grimacing before he set down the cup.

"Nate would have been....thirteen at that point?" Jacob murmured before he shook his head. "But you two were long gone. From what I've read likely scavenging the globe for treasure."

Jacob cleared his throat.

"There a point to all this?" Sam asked harshly, his father visibly wincing before he responded.

"Annalise and Francis found out about the Jewels after their mom passed away. Channeled all their grief into researching it, studying maps of Costa Rica, planning how they might be able to take them. None of which I was aware, I'd like to say."

Jacob shrugged.

"I'd like to assume they didn't know about Savio when they hired him, his connections to the clan. That it happened to be circumstance," Jacob murmured. "But I suppose we all assume the best of our children."

He risked another sip of the coffee, shuddering before he set it to the side.

"Savio got them to a certain point, thinking it was close to some historical site they were trying to examine," Jacob continued. "They ditched him after that, tried to go after the treasure. Got captured, and well, you know the rest."

Jacob shook his head.

"Funny to think if they just talked to him they would have found out the gems weren't even in the main compound," Jacob declared. "Savio took them years ago, hid them in a cottage close by. Not that I can tell you what he wanted to do with them."

Jacob sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Long story short, your girlfriend found them and took them, thought she could trust us to do the right thing with them...hell she even gave Savio the option of taking them back once she found out he was taking over. But.....Lise and Frank took them instead and just ran."

"So we don't know where the jewels are," Sam declared, his father shaking his head.

"Perhaps that's for the best," Jacob retorted, picking up his cup and swirling around the liquid more than drinking it. "Most of them looked like fakes anyways...."

Sam couldn't help but snort a little at that, his father smiling gently.

"So....what's your plans now?" Jacob asked.

Sam settled back in his chair, rubbing his shoulder before he spoke.

"Scotland," he replied after a moment of hesitation. "There's a few things there I need to do."

Jacob smiled knowingly.

"You?"

"Harvard. Apparently they're looking for an archaeology professor to teach some of the grad students."

Sam nodded, glancing around the room. Wincing as he stretched his shoulder with the movement, rubbing it again.

Jacob's phone buzzed, the man looking apologetic as he answered.

Sam took that as his cue to leave, giving his father a curt nod before he went to leave.

He felt a sharp pressure on his arm, his head turning to look down at his father.

The man had his phone pressed against his ear as he grabbed a nearby pen and scribbled something down on the back of an envelope.

He passed it to Sam, mouthing something to him.

"Hope this makes up for everything."

Sam looked down at the contact info as he walked back to his room, stepping inside as he frowned to himself.

"Have a nice talk?"

Sam looked at [Y/N]. Her hair was a complete mess, there was drool on her cheek and she definitely looked like she needed to sleep for a century.

And Christ was he in love with her in that small moment.

He settled on the bed, passing her the envelope and watching her read it.

"What is it?" She asked with a small frown.

"It's the auction house my father sold all my mother's belongings to," Sam murmured. "Though there's probably..."

She reached to the side table. She took his hand opened up his palm gently, placing her phone there.

"You've worked with a lot less than 'probably' before," she declared. "Call Nate. Let him know. Prepare for the next grand adventure of the brothers Drake."

Sam chuckled at that, meeting her eyes. He silently leaned in, his lips gently pressing to her forehead before he pulled back.

He took a deep breath, feeling her squeeze his hand.

He dialled the number, pressing the phone against his ear as he pulled [Y/N] to his side, holding her as his sleep-addled brother answered the phone.

"Think I have a job for ya Nathan."

[Y/N] pressed herself close to him, snuggling under his chin. Something warm blossomed within him, and he grinned to himself.

"May involve the property of one Cassandra Morgan."

Perhaps he could understand why Nathan might want to give up treasure hunting for some form of a domestic life.

"Ya interested?"

Because...yeah. He could picture it. And...it wasn't the most dreadful thought in the world.

But for now...there was another treasure of sorts to find.

This time with the knowledge that [Y/N] and him were finally, gloriously on the same page.

He didn't realize how nice that could feel until that moment, and he lingered in it contentedly.

His brother speaking eagerly, his girl in his arms, his mother's belongings almost in his grasp.

Definitely the sort of feeling he could get used to.


	9. And Where We Go From Here

_Tobermory, Scotland - Two Months Later_

You pulled the sweater more tightly around your frame, the faint stench of cigarettes emanating from it as you watched Sam kneel down beside a little girl with blonde hair.

"For a man who claims he never wants kids, he's good with them," a familiar voice mused, a small smile blooming on your lips before you looked at the source.

"It's all an illusion," you retorted as the little girl picked up a stone, showing it to Sam eagerly.

Elena chuckled a little, crossing her arms as the pair of you watched the girl grab Sam's hand, tugging him towards another part of the shore.

Cassandra Morgan's belongings had brought more than fond memories, her journals packed to the brim with research of treasures untold.

This was the one the brothers Drake had latched onto, something about a Spanish pirate ship sunk off the coast of a small Scottish town.

Unlike their previous adventures, there was no grand expedition of the globe. The treasure, for once miraculously, was exactly where it was supposed to be.

You were more than a little glad for that. You were still reeling from your little expedition involving the Ortiz clan.

You made a mental note to try and talk to Savio, a certain rumour you heard involving one Chloe Frazer causing a grin to bloom on your lips when you heard it.

"So Nate tells me you're working with Sam and Sully now," Elena declared, her eyes still watching her daughter.

That was a recent development, your former boss apparently having hired someone else in your long absence and deciding she liked him better.

You'd been scrambling for work until Sam suggested you come and work for him and Sully. Be that researcher for them like he suggested what seemed like a decade ago.

"Yeah, it's....not quite what I expected I'd be doing with a History Masters," you retorted with a grin. "But I like research, even if the topics can be...less than legitimate."

Elena chuckled at that.

"How's the business going?"

"Fairly well, actually," she replied, sounding almost as if she was surprised. "Turns out all those years treasure-hunting were good for something other than getting shot at."

You smiled at that, watching Sam kneel down in front of Cassie. She circled around him and clamoured up his back, giggling as he placed her on his shoulders.

"You know, we were all starting to have some doubts," Elena confessed, and you looked at her questioningly. "That you two would ever work it all out."

"Who says we have?" You joked, causing Elena to grin. "I mean, the prick abandoned me in Costa Rica...and broke my heart in the Netherlands....and before that in Newfoundland....nobody sensible would stick around after all that."

Elena watched you with a certain expectation.

"But I love the bastard, so I guess that's a decent excuse," you declared.

"You should see some of the things Nate put me through," Elena retorted.

The pair of you watched Nate load the last of the cargo onto the trawler, insistent on doing it himself, and you smiled.

"So what's your next job?" You asked.

"Another sunken ship that needs to be dredged. Taiwan this time. You?"

You laughed.

"You assume Sam and Sully plan their jobs that far in advance," you retorted, Elena laughing a little. "God, it drives me up the wall."

"You're happy though?"

You looked at Sam, Cassie's little hands pressed to the sides of his head, taking exaggerated steps in order to bounce her around causing her to giggle.

Thinking of your uncertain future working for him and Sullivan, of the chance this might all go to hell tomorrow.

You had doubts, you would always have worries and doubts. It was part of your nature after all.

"He makes me stop thinking," you retorted honestly. "And trust me, when it comes to me and my thoughts? That's a goddamn Christmas miracle."

"So you're thinking of sticking around then?" Elena asked, and you shrugged.

"I mean, I guess," you retorted jokingly, looking over at Sam to see him watching you with such a warm affection it made your heart flutter.   
"Put in enough effort already. Might as well see it through."

You didn't mention you couldn't think of doing anything else but sticking around.

Because, in some genuinely pathetic way, the pair of you needed each other.

And you adored every single moment of it.

\------------------------///-------------------------

His sweater was crumpled on the floor, your legs wrapped around Sam's waist as he leaned over you.

You traced the scar on his shoulder, funnily enough matching your own, breathing in the scent of cigarettes as his mouth met yours.

His lips travelled across your jaw, down the column of your throat as you ground against him a little.

The low moan caused something warm to spike inside you, his arm securely around your waist as he flipped the pair of you over.

He continued to worship your neck, mouth lingering on every fraction of exposed skin before he finally, gloriously began to move.

There was no urgency, Sam's hands tracing every inch of you as you moved in tandem, and when you met his eyes you couldn't help but kiss him again for the look in them.

"You ever think we'd get here?" You murmured as you placed your hands on his chest, sitting back up.

"In bed? I mean, yeah, I hoped," he retorted with a cheeky grin.

"That's not what I meant," you replied affectionately.

He thought for a few moments, an incredible feat considering how tightly he appeared to be gripping your hips.

He wetted his lips before he spoke.

"Ya have to promise you won't stop if I say the wrong thing," he murmured.

"You? Say the wrong thing?" You retorted as your eyebrows rose. "When has THAT ever been an issue?"

His chuckle was sarcastic, giving way to a groan that you echoed with a small gasp.

"I...I liked ya. Knew that from the start," he replied. "But...I'm kinda glad I didn't...y'know. Want ya from the start."

You stopped your movements and he let out a moan of complaint.

"C'mon [Y/N]...."

"And why is that?" You asked with a smirk, leaning over him just so. He tried to move and you held him down. "Answer the question Sam."

"Forced me to actually get to know ya."

You laughed at that.

"My God, just when I think you couldn't be more of an ass Sam...." you retorted.

"Told ya I'd say the wrong thing."

You shook your head with a small smile, your hand resting on his cheek before you patted it affectionately.

"Lucky you're so handsome to get away with that kinda shit right?" You murmured.

"And lucky that you love me," he countered.

"What? Who said that?" You replied. "Was it a ghost?"

He flipped you over, causing you to laugh as your back hit the mattress.

He gently cupped the back of your head, drawing you to him before he kissed your mouth.

"Watch it, you don't want to anger the ghost of Lover's Past....she's very temperamental..." you murmured between kisses.

He withdrew enough to look down at you as he chuckled.

"Christ, don't make me fall in love with ya even more. My old heart can't take it," he murmured.

"Your heart is as young as they come Sam," you replied, your hand resting on his chest as you spoke.

He clasped your hand, holding it to his chest for a moment before began to move again.

It was your turn to groan, causing him to grin before he increased the pace.

His heart thrummed under your hand and you wanted to hold onto that moment.

His heart hammering just as hard as yours, his eyes meeting yours tenderly, a small grin on his lips.

"I love you," you murmured automatically, no teasing.

"As you should," he retorted. "I'm very loveable."

You frowned a little.

"Try again Samuel."

He chuckled.

"Love ya too."

"That's better," you retorted. "Actually...oh God that's...oh...."

There....weren't that many words spoken after that.

\---------------------////--------------------------

_Somewhere in New York, two months later_

You looked over the files again, sighing as you set them down on the desk.

Despite all the fatigue you'd had lately, you couldn't seem to sleep. Which usually caused you to look over the information on your latest case until your eyes crossed.

Not that your colleagues seemed to have that issue.

You peeked into the room that comprised Sully's office, a rather loose term when it came to the space, smiling to yourself as you saw the pair of men passed out on top of the desk.

A paper was stuck to Sully's cheek and Sam was snoring gently, his mouth slackjawed as a puddle of drool formed on the desk.

"Ah, my two old men," you mused with a grin, going to find some blankets to cover them at least.

You wondered what the use was in even having an apartment with Sam at this point considering how often you all slept here.

They were in the usual place, practically stuffed into the couch, and you pulled them out with a firm tug.

Something clattered to the floor and you frowned, picking up Sam's phone.

It buzzed, an email notification popping up for tickets to Gotland, and your frown deepened.

Was there another job Sam was taking on the side? He was already being worked enough as it was, he didn't need to add anything else to his plate.

You wouldn't be the cliche girlfriend and investigate, though you made a mental note to ask him when he was awake as the phone buzzed again.

It was a notification from a....jewelry store?

No. No you were not going to investigate this. That would be a severe invasion of his privacy, and you were....

"[Y/N]?" A familiar voice asked groggily, causing you to jump a little.

The chuckle was warm and laden with sleep, the floor creaking under his feet before Sam wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Didn't mean to scare ya," he murmured, his mouth gently pressing against your neck before he looked over your shoulder. "Snooping in my phone now?"

"You....you left it on the couch," you replied as your heart hammered. "Sam...you're not taking another job right?"

He shook his head against your shoulder.

"Ya kidding? This client is insane, ya think I'm taking on another job in top of that?"

"So...why are you going to Gotland?"

There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

"Oh. Uh. We're going to Gotland," he replied. "Was gonna surprise ya after the job was done."

You took a deep breath.

"And does this trip involve giving me a piece of jewelry? By any chance?"

He removed his arms from around your waist, taking the phone from your grasp.

He inspected the screen before he let out a long sigh.

"Sam?" You asked, your heart hammering at the implication.

"Yeah. Yeah it does," he retorted before he met your eyes and chuckled. "Was gonna do it on Oland, but apparently they don't like people...proposing there."

He seemed to be in as much disbelief as you that he was even saying the words.

"So I went for the next best thing," he murmured, finally looking up from his phone to meet your eyes. "Or I was gonna. Until this damn phone screwed me over."

You chuckled at that.

"I...I thought you said you didn't want to do the whole domestic thing."

"Hey hey hey, I just wanna marry ya, not that I want the rest," he retorted. "I mean...c'mon. I'll never be the guy who wants the desk job and the perfect little life."

You crossed your arms as you met his eyes.

"I mean...I can't even picture myself as a dad," he retorted with a small chuckle.

"I can," you replied honestly, thinking of Cassie, and his features softened.

"Well, I mean....I'm probably gonna be a shitty husband, would hate to see how I'd be as a father."

You smirked a little.

"You're not exactly convincing me to marry you, you do know that right?" You murmured, Sam rubbing his eyes.

"I'm tired, alright?" He replied. "And I was gonna have a whole speech prepared before I asked ya anything."

You chuckled, stepping forward before you kissed him gently.

You pulled away, your thumb running across his jaw before you spoke.

"You don't need to ask me anything now," you replied gently. "I've waited more than a few years for you to catch up to me. Don't mind waiting a little longer."

You smiled a little.

"I'm...I'm just stunned and very, very happy you even wanted to ask at all," you confessed.

He frowned.

"Well, why wouldn't I?" He asked, no teasing in his voice. He clasped your hand, intertwining the fingers. "When...when I was being kept in that cell, had a lot of time to think. About...everything."

He chuckled almost nervously.

"You remember what I said? Before I left? About a wedding?"

You smiled at the memory.

"The sex was good. Not that good."

He grinned at that.

"Well...I thought it was a joke. But. Yeah. Kinda wasn't when I thought about it."

"Oh," you replied, stepping closer to him. "Maybe there's hope in this proposal after all."

"Thought you said I could wait," he countered.

"I mean, you could. But then again...." you replied. "There's something kinda...nice about this."

He looked at you with some confusion.

"We've had enough chaos and excitement in our lives Sam. Might be nice to have at least one quiet moment."

You chuckled.

"Besides, somehow I suspect if we went to Gotland you'd find some other treasure, we'd get caught up in that and you'd forget the whole thing," you joked.

"That's...actually kinda fair," he replied with a small laugh. "So....I guess I'm doing this now, am I?"

"You might as well," you retorted.

"I don't even have a ring or anything," he replied before his eyes widened. "Wait a minute."

He scampered off into another room, muttering as he rummaged through something before he came back with one of his hands closed.

He knelt down, opening his palm to expose a gold necklace.

Eighteenth century, clearly a duchess' jewelry. The gem was a simple ruby, and when you recognized it your eyes widened.

"You have taken more than one bullet because of me, gotten more than a few scars and had to deal with me breaking ya heart more than once," he began. "But I adore ya. And if this is what it takes for me to never lose ya again, then I'm more than happy to do it. And Christ...I actually want to. Spend the rest of my life with ya."

He grinned as he met your eyes.

"Samuel Edward Drake and [Y/F/N]. Sounds like a pretty decent team to me."

You felt so damn cliche for the tears that slipped down your cheeks, clasping the necklace, wondering if this was what Victoria expected to happen to the necklace given to her by the only man she ever truly loved.

You liked to think she'd be very happy about it.

"So...yes or no?"

You looked at him and then back at the necklace, holding in your hands.

"Do I still get to keep the necklace either way?"

"Uhh....yeah. I guess...." Sam replied uncertainly.

"Then...sure. I guess I'll marry you," you retorted, looking at Sam's stunned expression. "Oh c'mon. You think after all this time I'd..."

He stood up quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist before he hoisted you up.

"Oh thank God," he murmured with a relief you mirrored, if for different reasons. Him, that you said yes. You, that all this damn bullshit had ended up being worth it in some way.

Not that you had expected marriage. Commitment, yes, but marriage? That was...that was a miracle in itself knowing him.

And you were definitely not gonna question it.

He held you tightly as you wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him in turn.

"I still want that vacation in Gotland though," you declared, his laugh rumbling though his chest as he kissed your neck.

"But of course. Anything for you my dearest darling," he murmured.

"Laying it on a bit thick there...."

"I just proposed, poured out my damn heart and THAT was considered too much?" He retorted.

"Yeah. Actually."

He shook his head before he kissed you again.

He tasted like nicotine, he stunk of smoke and you felt a bit of the excess drool on his cheek as you tangled your hands in his hair to pull him closer.

The pair of you lingered, savouring the moment and you smiled against his lips.

Samuel Drake. Your husband. Huh.

You adored the sound of that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is officially the end of the glorious drama that was the Tech Support series. 
> 
> Thank you everyone that read and commented on this story. You have no idea how deeply I'm touched that this story meant so much to some of you. 
> 
> I might end up posting snippets of their life after this point, but it all depends on time and inspiration. I'm pretty sure you can infer what happens after this point anyways if you know a good ol' fanfic trope...but who knows....
> 
> The story might go on....


End file.
